


If You Like Piña Coladas (And Getting Caught In A Lie)

by SolarPoweredFlashlight



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Couples Resort, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Multi, Tropical Vacation, and there was only one bed, copious alcohol consumption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:15:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28421556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarPoweredFlashlight/pseuds/SolarPoweredFlashlight
Summary: Bow and Glimmer convince all their friends to go with them on their honeymoon to a couple's resort - but after Adora's already paid the non-refundable deposit, her longterm girlfriend dumps her, leaving her in a bind. The friend group scrambles to find a replacement "girlfriend" so that Adora doesn't have to lose her deposit and miss out on the week of fun in the sun with her friends that she was promised - which she obviously needs now, more than ever, on the heels of her breakup - and Scorpia finds a friend of hers willing to pretend to be Adora's girlfriend so that she can get a half price vacation, even if it means sharing a room with only one bed. The only problem? This friend of Scorpia's is absolutely gorgeous... and a complete and total asshole. But they have to keep up the act, or ruin the whole trip.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra), Mermista/Sea Hawk (She-Ra), Perfuma/Scorpia (She-Ra)
Comments: 911
Kudos: 1312





	1. Sunday

“How you feeling?” Glimmer asks, leaning bodily into Adora with a quiet smile. Adora smiles back, juggling her duffel bag so that she can sling an arm around Glimmer’s shoulders and give her an appreciative little squeeze.

“I’m fine. Really. I promise. Don’t worry about me, okay? This is _your_ honeymoon!” She tries to keep her tone chipper, even though she knows she’s a terrible liar. It’s not _really_ a lie - she’s honestly feeling a lot better about this than she thought she would! Maybe, okay, a _little_ nervous about the whole _pretending to date someone she’s never met before_ part, but that’s just one little detail, right?

“I just want you to have a good _time,”_ Glimmer says, propping her face up on Adora’s shoulder. “You’ll tell me if you want to talk about anything at any point, okay? About _anything,_ whether that’s about wanting to skip out on any activities or needing more alone time or needing _less_ alone time, or if you feel like you want to talk about Dylan…?”

“I promise you,” Adora says firmly, “I am not going to want to talk about Dylan at any point on this vacation. Consider that subject _thoroughly_ off limits.” She has absolutely no desire to discuss her ex girlfriend when she’s supposed to be going on this vacation to escape from the pressures of work and the temptation to wallow in feelings about the breakup. 

“Who’s Dylan?” Somebody says, coming up behind them. Adora doesn’t recognize the voice and instinctively tenses at the thought of a stranger randomly intruding on their private conversation, turns around with a prepared look of icy, unwelcome surprise, and -

Oh! That’s Scorpia standing beside the unexpected interloper, which means she just accidentally gave her nastiest 7 am murder stare to the person she’s supposed to be sharing a _room_ with for the next week. 

No, not _just_ that.

The person she’s supposed to be pretending to be in a _relationship_ with, to get around the couples-only rule of this resort she booked her tickets for back when she and Dylan were still together. 

Oops.

She jumps to her feet, apologetic. 

“My ex,” she says quickly, “who we’re definitely not going to talk about. Hi. You must be Catra?” 

“Hi,” Catra says, looking thoroughly unimpressed. She doesn’t take Adora’s hand right away, first fixing her with a piercing, studious expression, sweeping her eyes from Adora’s messy ponytail to her nasty old BMU Athletics shirt to her travel yoga pants and her fingernails, which are still painted sparkly pink from Bow and Glimmer’s wedding last weekend to match the other bridesmaids - and _then_ she takes Adora’s hand and shakes it, her face settling firmly into a tortured, plastered-on looking smile. “Nice to meet you. I guess you’re Adora.”

As their hands grip, Adora’s pulse leaps a little involuntarily, because, uh, holy shit -

Scorpia never mentioned that her friend Catra is _super_ hot. 

Without entirely meaning to, Adora returns the investigative eyeballing, gulping down as much detail as she can about the girl she’s been texting on and off with for the last two weeks. 

In a rush, she takes in a thick constellation of freckles, a striking stare - half blue and half amber brown - a handsomely styled, perfectly faded undercut and a jawline that could cut glass. 

_Help,_ Adora thinks reflexively, as she tries not to hold on to Catra’s hand for longer than a normal introductory handshake is supposed to last, _I’m gay._

Whatever embarrassingly gobsmacked expression flits across Adora’s face at that thought, Catra _definitely_ notices it, because her forced smile drops into a carefully neutral expression that looks like she’s fighting to keep it from becoming a scowl. 

“What?” Catra asks curtly, “Did you not realize I’d be a girl?” 

“I - oh, no, I mean - I just didn’t realize you’d be, uh - “ 

Do not say ‘hot’. Do _not_ say ‘hot’. 

Catra raises a pointed eyebrow when Adora doesn’t finish the sentence. Yeah, okay. She’s definitely scowling now.

“Nevermind, haha, I’m just - a little loopy right now. I clearly need this vacation!” She drops Catra’s hand, nervously wipes her sweaty palm on her leg. “It’s so nice to meet, you, thank you so much for saving my ass like this. The deposit was non-refundable, so - uh - yeah. I really appreciate it!” 

“Yeah, you told me,” Catra says dryly, looking past Adora over her shoulder. “So this is everybody else going on the trip, I assume?” 

“Yeah!” Adora quickly jumps aside and indicates the other people in their group who are spread out across several seats in the waiting area for Gate 156. “Uh, okay, so, this is Bow and Glimmer, the newlyweds, and that’s Mermista and Sea Hawk, and of course you already know Perfuma.”

“Uh huh,” Catra says, looking back and forth between the two couples with some indistinct expression. She leans in to Scorpia, frowning, and whispers something to her. Scorpia looks puzzled. 

“No, they’re all - !” Whatever Scorpia is about to say is cut off by a squealing blur of wispy green fabric and sun-bleached blonde hair. Scorpia laughs and catches her girlfriend, spinning her with effortless athleticism and laughing with loud, boisterous joy. “Well hello there, beautiful!” 

“Catra, hi, it’s so nice to finally meet you!” Bow says around Adora, moving his bag aside to open a seat for their newest addition. “Scorpia’s talked about you a couple times but I think this is the first time we’ve ever actually gotten to spend time with you? I’m really excited to get to know you.”

That reluctant smile is back on Catra’s face, and Adora allows Bow to take over the job of welcoming her into the fold of their tight little social group. 

It’s probably for the best. That was definitely not the first impression she wanted to make. They arranged to sit next to each other on the plane so that they could prepare their alibis and get to know a bit about each other before getting to the resort, so there’s no rush. Yeah. No rush at all. She’s just going to sit back down next to Glimmer and, uh, look at her shoes. Yep. 

“You _sure_ you’re okay?” Glimmer whispers in her ear. 

“I’m sure,” Adora hisses back, sneaking another glance at Catra. 

Ugh. She’s _really_ pretty. And - yep, that’s definitely a rainbow flag patch embroidered on Catra’s messenger bag. So Adora could potentially stand a chance, if - 

Catra catches her looking _again,_ and this time her jaw tightens with obvious displeasure. Turning red, Adora quickly yanks her attention back to Glimmer. 

“How much longer before we board, do you think? I just really want to get going, you know?” 

“I feel the same way,” Glimmer sighs, sinking back into her chair. “I won’t really believe I’m finally on my honeymoon until I have a margarita in my hand and the sound of the ocean in my ears.”

* * *

“Okay,” Adora says, pulling out her notebook and her pen once the plane has finished taking off and she can safely lower her seat tray, “Let’s talk details. I know we got some of the basics over texting, but I’ve been trying to think of things I should know about you, assuming we’ve been dating for the last year, like I told them in the questionnaire when I was booking the room for me and Dylan.” 

“Uh huh,” Catra says, sounding distinctly bemused. “And they’re not going to ask questions about the fact that I have a completely different first and last name from the original booking?” 

“Funny story,” Adora says, flashing a victorious grin at Catra, flush with pride at how clever she thinks the solution she’s come up with is. “When I filled out the booking and the questionnaire, my computer autocomplete filled in both mine and Dylan’s names without me manually inputting them myself, and I just stupidly didn’t notice that the computer’s saved information was from an _old_ relationship and had the wrong name!” 

Adora waits for Catra to be impressed with this brilliantly plausible lie.

She just looks at Adora blankly, and then says, 

“Sure. So, any confusion is because of some autocomplete bullshit with your computer. And we’ve supposedly been dating for a year? That’s not _that_ long, it’s not like it’ll be suspicious if I don’t know, like, your middle name or your top six favourite types of cheese.” Adora opens her mouth and Catra cuts her off. “Don’t - I _don’t_ need the list, that was just a stupid example. Look, does any of this really matter all that much? As long as we’re paying for the room, who cares if we’re actually a shmoopy couple or not?” 

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Adora says, very seriously. “I did a lot of research before deciding to go ahead with the trip. People have a lot of _very_ strong opinions about keeping these resorts free of single people. It’s all about having the right _ambiance_ and stuff - the impression I’ve gotten is that we would absolutely be escorted off the resort and our booking cancelled if they figured out we were faking.” 

“Great,” Catra snorts, pushing the button on her armrest to recline her seat and grunting in displeasure when it doesn’t go back more than a few inches. “Sounds _super_ relaxing.”

“You’re the one that agreed to it,” Adora counters, tapping her pen unhappily against her notebook. “Anyways I’m sure we’ll be fine, we just have to make sure we stick together and occasionally hold hands and stuff. You said you were fine with that.”

“Yeah,” Catra says, bending down to rummage through her messenger bag and then producing a sleeping mask and a pair of earbuds. “I’m still fine with that. Are _you?”_

“Yeah, of course.” Adora’s starting to wonder if she’s made a bad decision. Maybe Catra’s just not a morning person. Maybe that’s why she’s so… _grouchy._ Or maybe she just doesn’t like the idea of having to hold Adora’s hand but doesn’t want to be rude by admitting it. “It’s only every once in a while,” Adora adds, hoping that’ll be some consolation. 

“Sure. Anyways, I’m fucking exhausted, so. I’m going to try to sleep. Wake me up when we land?” Catra waves the eye mask pointedly. 

“Oh, but - “ Adora looks down at her empty notebook page, pinching her eyebrows together. “But what about all that preparation we still haven’t done?” 

“We’ll make it up as we go. What do you want me to call you?”

“Huh?”

“Honey? Babycakes?” For the first time all morning, Catra’s smile looks genuine - if a little sadistic - as Adora’s nose scrunches in distaste. “Sweetheart? Princess?” 

“You know, I don’t think we need _pet names,_ that’s really not - I don’t know if that’s _necessary -_ “

“Gotcha. G’night princess.” She’s outright smirking as she turns over in her seat, tugs the sleeping mask over her eyes, and then stuffs her earbuds in. 

Well. And that’s that, then. With a frown, Adora puts her notebook away and retrieves her own headphones from the bag at her feet. If Catra doesn’t want to plan out everything in detail, that’s fine. Improvising isn’t that hard, right? Yeah. This’ll be just fine. 

She puts her music on shuffle, closes her eyes, and does her best to disengage her brain. Might as well try to get some sleep - the more time she spends unconscious, the sooner she’ll be there.

Adora wakes up with a start at the feeling of somebody tapping her shoulder impatiently. Her big, noise-cancelling headphones fall off her head as she scrambles upright and blearily turns to look at who or what was touching her, and comes nose to nose with Catra, now sneering with that beautiful face of hers. 

“Move,” Catra hisses, “I need to piss.” 

“Oh, sorry,” Adora splutters, unbuckling her seatbelt and shuffling out into the aisle so that Catra can get by. Once Catra is back, Adora replaces her headphones with the intention of going back to sleep. 

“Of course she listens to country music,” Catra mutters to herself, audible in the heartbeat before Adora hits play. 

Adora’s thumb hovers over the screen. What is this girl’s problem? She may be pretty but she’s kind of being an ass. Adora’s half tempted to take her headphones off and demand to know what exactly Catra means by that, but - 

But she has to spend a week pretending to be in a relationship with her, and starting that week with a confrontation over something as stupid as an offhand comment about her taste in music is just _asking_ to get kicked out of the resort for very obviously not being a couple. 

She hits play.

Breathe. Just breathe. 

She reminds herself that soon she’ll be on vacation in a sunny oceanside paradise, and it won’t matter if her roommate is a bit grumpy in the mornings, because they’ll be waking up far from the troubles of the real world and within easy reach of complementary mimosas. 

She somehow falls asleep again, and when she wakes back up the captain is announcing the local time and Glimmer is making an excited high-pitched noise in the seat behind her. 

“We’re here!” 

* * *

  
  


“Wow,” Bow says, as soon as they’re done hauling their luggage off the shuttle from the airport and actually turn to look at their new home for the next week. “It’s… _beautiful.”_

The resort sprawls out below them, vibrant and cheerful and welcoming, and beyond it is nothing but blue water and bluer sky. 

“Gosh,” Scorpia says, pulling Perfuma close, “I just - everything here is so _pretty,_ and I’m so glad I’m here with _you.”_

Catra rolls her eyes, and Adora is quietly thankful she isn’t the only person who wants to make good natured pretend-to-be-barfing motions at how sickeningly sweet these two are. 

It _is_ beautiful here, though. The air is fresh and clean, there’s greenery everywhere, the sky is bright, and the view of the ocean is ubiquitous. The perfect place to relax and forget all your worries. 

“Let’s go get to check in,” Glimmer says excitedly. “I want to change and get some sand between my toes, stat!” 

“I could _not_ agree more,” Mermista says. “Let’s get going so I can get inside the _pool_ and get some booze inside _me.”_

The group mills towards the reception building and divides up organically into couples. With a grudging, sheepish smile, Adora offers her hand to Catra so that they can blend in with the others. 

“And so it begins,” Catra says with a melodramatic sigh, and takes the offered hand.

* * *

“I call the left side,” Catra declares, pushing past Adora into their suite and flopping immediately on the bed, spreading her limbs out and grinning. “Ah, finally. A whole week of doing absolutely fuck all.” 

Adora takes both her suitcase and the one Catra abandoned on the threshold over to the wardrobe, admiring the cozy, tasteful room as she goes.

“Did you not get the email I sent you? The one with the schedule?” 

“Oh, I got that email. I just didn’t _open_ it.” Catra stretches, her back arching. “I genuinely could not care less what sappy shit you planned on doing with your ex. I have three paperbacks and a beach towel and a phone with an unlimited data plan and if you think you’re seeing me outside of mealtimes, you are _dead_ wrong, princess.” 

Adora pauses at the foot of the bed, frowning.

“No, see, we have to do things _together._ I told you, I read a bunch of these forum posts and people get sketched out and suspicious if they notice anybody spending too much time without their partner.” 

“So come nap on the beach beside me,” Catra shrugs. 

“I have things booked. I sent you the _schedule.”_

“You’re seriously one of _those_ people, huh?” Catra mutters, sitting up and actually meeting Adora’s eyes. “Fine, alright. I guess I have your little sob story to thank for getting this half price vacation. We can do _some_ of whatever it was you wanted to do so badly. But I’m not doing anything stupid.”

“Please tell me you at least got the memo about Thursday night dinner and packed something appropriate to wear,” Adora says, a little desperately. “Everybody else in the group is going to the Starlight Ball Evening Affair on Thursday and they won’t let me in if I’m not with my date, and they won’t let _you_ in if you’re not wearing something appropriate.”

“Relax,” Catra says, rolling her eyes and then, quite unceremoniously - rolling her _body_ off of the bed. She springs up on her feet, then cracks her back. Wow. She’s pretty nimble. “Scorpia made sure to remind me about five thousand times about that. I packed fancy shit for that night, don’t worry.”

“Okay,” Adora says, sighing and allowing some of the creeping tension to leave her shoulders. “Good. That’s good.” She can compromise a little on the activities, she supposes. After all, Catra _is_ doing her a huge favour, saving her from missing out on this special trip with her friends and from losing that deposit. 

“Good,” Catra echoes, with a little amused smirk. Something hot and hungry twists in Adora’s stomach at that look. 

“I uh - I’m gonna change, then. Everybody’s meeting up at the pool bar in a bit - you’re coming right?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” Catra comes around the edge of the - thankfully - enormous bed, and brushes past Adora to get at her suitcase. She opens it and pulls out a shirt and pair of tiny jean shorts and then, like Adora isn’t standing _right there,_ starts to fucking _strip down._

A little squeak of surprise escapes Adora’s throat. Catra glances at her, raising an eyebrow in challenge, and then Adora abruptly turns away and focuses on getting her own change of clothes out of her duffel bag. 

“Gonna change in the bathroom,” she blurts quickly, and then removes herself from Catra’s gorgeous, half-naked presence before Catra can see she’s fucking blushing from hairline to collarbone. 

She slams the bathroom door perhaps a little harder than he needs to, and then stares at her reflection, working through a silent pep talk. 

Do _not_ crush on the cranky friend of Scorpia’s you are going to be stuck sharing a bed with for the next week. Absolutely do _not_ do that, Adora. 

She trades her yoga pants for cargo shorts and her ratty old athletics shirt for a bright red Hawaiian shirt she bought specifically for this occasion. 

She then spends four entire minutes buttoning and unbuttoning the top button, trying to decide which one looks sexier, before realizing exactly what she’s doing and why and putting a firm stop to that nonsense and forcing herself to go back out into the room and face the hot, hopefully _fully dressed_ woman waiting there. 

“Okay,” she says, “Ready!” 

Catra turns to face her, and then snorts. 

“You look like a _dad,”_ Catra blurts. 

“I think you mean a _daddy,”_ is the first thing, god in heaven knows why, that tumbles out of Adora’s mouth as she flashes an impulsive pair of finger guns. 

“Nope,” Catra says, with a strangled tone of voice, “No, nuh-uh, I’m pretending I didn’t hear you say that. Let’s go to the bar so I can drink enough tequila to wipe _that_ from my memory.” 

“Sorry, I uh - yeah, let’s just - let’s just go to the bar.” Adora’s blushing again, she knows it. “You, uh - you look nice?” 

And she _does_ look nice, wearing that tight black tank top and those shockingly short jean shorts, but she almost certainly doesn’t want to hear Adora’s thoughts on how Catra’s ass has got to be in the top ten all time most incredible asses she’s ever laid eyes upon in real life, and woops okay let’s stop staring now, Adora - !

“Thanks,” Catra says flatly. 

They leave their suite; the sun is going down and the view really is incredible, so Adora stops and lingers. 

It’s funny, she feels like she should be more sad that she’s here alone when she was supposed to be here with her girlfriend, but… well. There were already a lot of signs that the relationship had run its course. She guesses this is just one more. 

“Hey,” Catra says, her voice seeming kind for once, forgiving instead of judgemental - as if, like the landscape, everything sharp and brilliant about her is softened by the fall of dusk. “Coming, princess?”

Adora huffs a laugh, picks up her feet to rejoin Catra and walk side by side with her down the well maintained path to the pool bar. 

“Looks like we’re the first ones here,” Catra says, when they get to the agreed upon meeting place and nobody else they recognize is there. 

“I think I heard Bow say something about needing a shower,” Adora says. “Should we wait for them before we start drinking?”

“Absolutely not,” Catra says, and so Adora follows her obediently up to the bar, definitely overthinking how much she’s supposed to be sticking close to and stealing glances at her ‘girlfriend’ now that they’re out in the public eye. 

“Hello and good evening,” the bartender says, with a broad, earnest smile. His name tag says W. Hordak. “Welcome! This is your first time here, isn’t it? I’m William. Please, call me Will!” 

“Hi Will! I'm Adora, this is Catra. It is our first time, yeah, how could you tell?” Adora asks, smiling back and instantly inclined to be friendly. She’s worked enough lousy service jobs on the way to getting her degree that she makes a point to be nice to people stuck working these kinds of gigs as a rule, but there’s something about Will that puts her at ease. 

“I never forget a face,” Will says, tapping his own nose. Out of her peripherals, Adora notices Catra rolling her eyes. “Or a drink order. Welcome to Mystacor Couples’ Retreat - I hope you both have a truly magical time here. Please don’t hesitate to tell me if you need _anything_ at all. Can I get you something to drink?” 

“I’ll take a beer,” Adora says. “Something cold and light.”

“Of course. Let me pour you a sampler of the locally brewed lager, I think you’ll like it!” Will beams at her, then, chatting as he deftly retrieves a small sampler glass and fills it from one of the beer taps, asks: “Where are you two coming from today?”

“We just flew in from California,” Adora says, fishing in her pockets for the small bills she made sure to get a stack of for the trip and slipping one across the bartop - the first of many. The drinks are all included, but she knows enough about how these places work that she came prepared to tip often and as generously as she can afford. 

“Thank you so much,” Will says, with a sincere smile, and the bill vanishes as he places the sampler of beer in front of Adora. “California is a beautiful place. My brother lives there. And can I get anything for you?” He asks Catra, graciously charming. Adora takes a sip of her beer - it’s pleasant, definitely something intended for easy drinking, and she decides it’s likely going to be her go-to drink for the week. 

“Tequila shot,” Catra says, “And a long island iced tea.”

Will chuckles and immediately busies himself preparing the drinks. 

“Starting your week strong,” he says, with a smile. “Are you two here by yourselves?” 

“We came with a group,” Adora says, and then lifts her hand to maybe put it on Catra’s waist, and then thinks maybe she shouldn’t do that, and then that maybe she _should,_ and ultimately busies her hands with draining the last mouthful of sampler beer. “My best friends got married last week! They wanted us all to come on the honeymoon getaway with them here.” 

“Oh, how _wonderful!”_ Will says, and actually sounds sincere. “You’ll have to point them out to me so I can congratulate them, although I’m sure I’ll be able to spot them from a mile away. Honeymooners just have that special little _sparkle_ to them, you can just _feel_ the newness of their connection. One of the things I love about this job.” He smiles, and Adora tries not to sweat through her shirt. She should definitely have her hand on Catra’s waist, right? “How did you like that beer?” He asks, putting the shot of tequila in front of Catra. “Can I get you a pint of it?”

“It was great, thank you,” Adora says. Act cool, be casual. This bartender who probably has years of experience watching how couples interact can’t _read her mind_ or anything. It’s fine. It’ll be fine. “I’d love a pint.”

“I’m _so_ glad. So, what about you two? How long have you been together?”

“A year,” Adora says, maybe a little too quickly, and glances at Catra. Catra doesn’t say anything, just winks and throws back the shot of tequila. “Ish.”

“Ah, how lovely! Well, I hope your time here just makes you fall even more in love with each other than you already are. How did you two meet, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Horse training seminar,” Adora blurts. Shit. Fuck. That was _not_ the planned, agreed upon explanation of how they met. She doesn’t know why she said that. 

“Oh?” Will says, glancing up from mixing Catra’s long island iced tea. “I’ve been doing this for a while but that’s certainly one I’ve never heard!”

Catra looks at her, laughs, shakes her head. 

“We did _not_ meet at a horse training seminar,” Catra says, and Adora grits her jaw and stares at her in horror. No, no, this is not how this was supposed to go! What’s Catra doing? Is she blowing their cover out of _spite_ or something? “Our friend set us up, thinking this goober would take me to a date at a restaurant or something, like a _normal_ human being, and instead for some reason she dragged me to a _horse barn.”_

Oh, thank fuck, okay. Alright. Adora can work with that.

And Catra can, apparently, improvise pretty convincingly. 

“I look really impressive on horseback,” Adora says, earnestly, because that’s the first thing that comes to mind to respond to Catra’s teasing with. 

It’s actually not a bad idea, she thinks, taking a girl to the ranch see her riding a horse for a first date. She’ll have to keep that plan in her back pocket for the next time she’s trying to woo a lady. 

“Uh huh,” Catra laughs, and oh - oh, _shit -_ she’s annoyingly hot even when she’s being surly, but she’s _beautiful_ when she laughs - “Very impressive. Too bad I’m not into cowboys.” 

“Hey,” Adora splutters, “I still managed to get you to date me, somehow.” They’re going to have to have a conversation at some point to fill in the details on just what that ‘somehow’ was, so they don’t have to do any more of this terrifying point-blank inventing of lies. 

“Somehow,” Catra says, with a smirk, and then reaches out and settles her warm, soft hand on Adora’s forearm where it’s resting on the bartop. Adora’s skin erupts in goosebumps, and her heart kicks up rebelliously. 

“Actually,” she says to their bartender, as he places the beer and the iced tea in front of them, “Can I grab a shot of tequila too?”

“Of course,” he says, with a smile. 

She’s never known tequila to quell a budding crush, but at least if she’s going to make an ass of herself she can follow Catra’s lead and drink enough to make sure she doesn’t remember it in the morning. 


	2. Monday

“I can’t believe,” Adora says, for the third time that morning, “I slept through my alarm.”

“I can’t believe it either,” Catra mutters, stuffing a piece of fresh fruit into her mouth. “What even  _ is _ that alarm, some kind of recording of a truck horn rap battle?” 

“I’m a heavy sleeper!” Adora protests - beside her at the breakfast table, Glimmer snorts with laughter. “Anyways it’s a good thing you guys came and woke us up, otherwise we’d have missed breakfast completely.” 

“You did definitely seem to be hitting that party  _ real _ hard for the first night,” Mermista says, with a little smirk. 

Adora, thankfully, has no memory of last night - and it seems like Catra is in the same position. They both woke up fully clothed and distinctly hungover.

“Here’s that drink you ordered,” Will says, popping up beside their table with his unfailingly broad smile and delivering something cheerful and alcoholic looking to Catra’s spot. 

“Thanks Will,” Catra says, and Adora is pleased to see her slip him some cash. Good to know she won’t be bearing the full burden of tipping on behalf of their ‘couple’. 

“Drinking already?” Adora murmurs, her tone somewhere between impressed and judgmental. 

“Hair of the dog,” Catra rebuts from behind her enormous aviators, quickly putting her mouth around the bright pink straw and gulping down a mouthful. 

“So, Adora, Catra!” Bow says, grinning across the table, “What are you two getting up to today?” 

“Oh!” Adora huffs, straightening excitedly and retrieving her printed out schedule and resort map from one of her many large pockets. “Let’s see here.” She moves her plate aside - it’s empty and has been for a while, since her hangover cure of choice has always been  _ carbs, and lots of them -  _ and spreads the schedule out. Catra peers over her shoulder.

“That better not fucking be  _ square dancing _ I see there under Wednesday night,” Catra says accusingly. 

“Aw, come on, Catra!” Scorpia says from across the table, “You can’t abandon us! You and Adora are our fourth couple!! We need four couples!! That’s what makes it a square!”

“Yes, Scorpia,” Catra hisses, “I’m aware. I can’t believe you seriously want to do that. Didn’t we get enough of that shit in highschool?” 

“Oh, you two went to highschool together?” Bow asks, with genuine curiosity. 

_ “And _ you already know how to square dance,” Adora accuses gleefully, putting the pieces together. 

Catra groans and sinks down into her chair, taking another long, sulky slurp from her drink. 

“This is the worst vacation I have ever been on. Who fucking  _ square dances _ at a beach resort? What other bullshit are you going to make me do while I’m here? Ring toss? Curling? Face painting?” 

“Ugggh, I  _ feel _ you, girl,” Mermista says. “I can- _ not _ believe they convinced me to sign up for that. I came to the beach to spend time on the  _ beach.” _

_ “Thank _ you!” Catra sighs, sitting up a little straighter and gesturing at Mermista. “I’m glad  _ somebody _ here has the right idea.” 

“There’s  _ lots  _ of time this week we can spend lazing around on the beach,” Adora says firmly, “but right now you need to hurry up and finish breakfast, Catra, because you and I have a couples massage booked for 11 am today, which means we have,” she checks her wristwatch, “forty-five minutes left before we should be there.” 

“They should have confiscated your watch when you got here,” Glimmer teases, poking Adora in the side. “We’re supposed to be on resort time, you know.” 

“I’m relaxing!” Adora counters. “I booked a massage and everything. That’s like, tip number one on how to relax on vacation, right?”

“It’s gonna take more than just a massage, I think,” Catra mumbles around her straw, hiding behind her oversized sunglasses. Adora feels herself blushing, for some reason, and only blushes harder when she hears both Glimmer and Mermista stifle laughter at the quip. 

“I  _ know  _ how to relax,” she mutters, to nobody in particular, as she neatly folds up her schedule for the week and tucks it back into her pocket. 

* * *

“I’ve decided that whatever you planned on doing this afternoon,” Catra announces grandly as they arrive at the resort spa hand in awkward hand, “I’m vetoing it.”

“What? Why? I haven’t even told you what it is yet!”

“I can guarantee it isn’t sitting in the sun on the beach, so I’m not interested. If you’re going to make me humiliate myself at square dancing, you  _ definitely _ owe me an afternoon of doing absolutely nothing. That sounds like a fair trade to me.” She pulls her sunglasses off deftly with one hand as they step inside the building, hangs them neatly from her cute red crop top, and then fixes Adora with a  _ look.  _ “And anyways - I thought you said you knew how to  _ relax?” _

There’s a teasing lilt in Catra’s voice that makes all of the hair on Adora’s arms stand on end. Something about it makes her just want to do anything at all, if it’ll impress Catra. 

“Okay,” Adora says, forcing her face into a smile so that she isn’t just gawping at her again, since that went so badly the first time. “Yeah. Sure. That’s a fair trade. I can give up the snorkeling lessons this afternoon in exchange for the square dancing on Wednesday.”

“Thanks, princess,” Catra says with a wink, and oh -  _ oh,  _ Adora wishes she had another shot of tequila close to hand. She’s not going to survive this week sober, that’s for sure. 

They check in for their booking at the reception desk and a tall woman with a soothing voice leads them into a private ‘relaxation room’ where a hidden speaker is playing quiet acoustic guitar and a chilled bottle of champagne is waiting.  _ Score.  _

Adora tries not to look too impatient as the woman slowly, slowly opens the bottle and pours them each a glass. 

“When you’re ready,” the employee says, with a calm smile, “You can disrobe here and leave your clothing on that bench over there.” Oh. Oh, fuck. Okay. Right. Yeah. Being naked. That’s a thing she’s supposed to be totally fine with doing in front of her  _ girlfriend.  _ Adora keeps her body in a state of rock solid rigidity to stop herself from sending Catra a nervous glance to see how she’s reacting to this information. “Then you can pass through this curtain here into the massage suite, and each select a table to lie face down on. You can cover yourselves with the sheets there, and your massage therapists will come through when you call through the other door that you’re ready. At your own pace.” She smiles again, and Adora smiles back woodenly and thanks her, and then it’s just her and Catra alone.

She takes a very big swig of champagne. 

“Oh yeah,” Catra snickers, “I can see how relaxed you are already.” 

Adora turns to say something, but she’s not quite sure  _ what _ she thinks she’s going to say, and certainly doesn’t manage to formulate any further thoughts on the subject when her eyes settle on Catra leaning back on the sofa beside her, glass of champagne held to her lips and her eyes holding Adora’s with a laughing, mocking kind of glint in them. 

Adora swallows hard.

The smile on Catra’s face abruptly vanishes. 

“I’m just teasing,” she sighs. “I can turn around and close my eyes while you get ready first if you want. I know I was being kind of bitchy about your schedule but I am actually looking forward to getting a legit professional massage.”

“Sorry,” Adora mumbles, “I don’t mean to make this weird.”

She shuffles quickly into a corner and strips down with her back to Catra, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She tries to think of something to say. 

“So, uh, what do you do? If you don’t mind me asking?” Adora asks, as she unbuttons her shirt - the light blue one with pineapples on it, today - with sweaty fingers. 

“I’m a storyboard artist,” Catra says from behind her, tone neutral. 

“Oh! That’s cool! So you work in the film and TV industry?” She manages to get her shirt off, and then pulls her sports bra up over her head. She can’t resist a quick little look over her shoulders - as promised, Catra is keeping her eyes trained on the opposite side of the room. 

“Me and just about everybody else I know. It’s not as glamorous as people say it is.” 

“Oh! I mean - me too, actually!” Adora unbuttons her shorts and shimmies out of them, pushing her boxer shorts down with them. She’s sure she’s bright red, but Catra  _ promised _ she wouldn’t look. 

“Yeah? I thought you were like… a horse doctor, or something?”

“I am, but - I’m employed full time by a ranch that rents horses out to film studios. So I actually spend a lot of time on set, just to make sure I’m on standby if something goes wrong.” 

“Oh,” Catra says, “That’s kind of cool. I never thought to wonder about where the horses come from.”

“Most people don’t,” Adora says, stacking her clothes on the bench and taking one last glimpse at Catra - still studiously inspecting a far wall - before going through the curtain into the massage room. Remembering how quickly Catra claimed the left side of the bed, she crawls up onto the right table and drapes the sheet over herself. “How long have you been a storyboard artist?”

“A few years,” Catra says from the adjoined room, and Adora can hear the sound of her unzipping her tight jean shorts. She presses her face into the massage table’s donut hole thing and tries very hard not to think sexy thoughts about that sound. “I don’t really want to talk about work though, if that’s all the same to you.”

“Yeah, yeah, fair,” Adora agrees quickly. 

Silence falls between them.

Just Adora and her heartbeat and the sounds of Catra getting undressed. 

Adora regrets not having more than a mouthful of that champagne. 

She hears Catra climb up onto the table, listens to the whisper of the sheet hiding her body from view. 

“Alright, we’re ready in here!” Catra calls, making Adora jump with surprise. She hears Catra snort with laughter and turns to look at her reflexively.

Catra is looking right back at her, smirking. 

“Having fun yet, princess?” She purrs, as the employee door comes open and the pair of massage therapists step into the room. 

* * *

“So, how were the massages? Good start to the vacation, right? Get you all, y’know, loosened up and ready to just -  _ let go _ of it all?” Scorpia asks excitedly, when the group meets back up again for a late lunch. 

“My girlfriend stores all of her tension in her jaw and her shoulders, apparently,” Catra says glibly.

_ “My _ girlfriend makes noises like a rabid squeaky toy while getting massages, _apparently,”_ Adora counters, and to her delight Catra actually  _ blushes  _ at this. 

“Hey, that knot she found in my back was  _ really _ painful!” 

“Uh huh,” Adora says, grinning. “Maybe you should learn to  _ relax _ a little more.” 

* * *

“C’mon, princess,” Catra calls, and Adora hurries out the door after her, carrying her bag of essentials, her beach towel, her hat - 

“Oh,  _ no,”  _ Catra says, at the same time Mermista says:

“Oh,  _ yes!  _ You  _ did _ bring the hat. Sea Hawk, you owe me ten bucks and a you-know-what.”

Sea Hawk makes a noise of defeat that is  _ entirely  _ too intrigued-slash-excited sounding.

“Not addressing  _ that,” _ Adora says, “And what’s wrong with my hat? It keeps the sun off the back of my neck, you know I burn easily.”

“It’s a fucking  _ cowboy _ hat, Adora,” Catra groans. “Oh my god. Do I  _ have _ to be seen holding hands with you?”

Adora laughs, loud and forced, and looks around to see who might have overheard that.

“Of course! Because you’re my girlfriend! We’re dating, and have been for a year. I mean, I bet you secretly  _ like _ this hat.” 

“Less talky more walky,” Mermista interrupts, seizing Sea Hawk by the drawstrings of his swim trunks and setting off towards the beach at a march. He gives a pleased titter of surprise and then allows himself to be led away. 

“Come  _ on,”  _ Catra sighs, stiffly offering Adora her hand. They walk to the beach in silence. 

Mermista and Sea Hawk both unceremoniously dump their belongings in a pile in the sand and then make for the water. 

“Hey, wait, Mermista,” Adora calls, “I was gonna ask you to get my back for me?” She waves the tube of high SPF sunscreen in Mermista’s direction, but Mermista only  _ smirks _ at her. 

“Sorry, me and Poseidon have a hot date planned and I can let  _ nothing _ come between us. Get your  _ girlfriend _ to do it for you.” And then she winks and splashes off into the gentle waves, her boyfriend following shortly after while yelling something about challenging the ocean to an arm wrestle.

“Your friends are weird,” Catra says, laying out her beach blanket. 

“Yeah,” Adora laughs. “But I like them.” 

She lingers there for a moment, smiling as she watches Mermista shriek-laughing as she and Sea Hawk splash each other like kids. 

Catra doesn’t say anything, so after a moment Adora turns to glance in her direction to see what she’s up to and is surprised to catch Catra looking at her.

Catra’s face gets suddenly tense and she flicks her eyes away. 

“I can do that sunscreen for you if you want,” she says, carefully neutral. 

“That’d be really helpful,” Adora says, trying not to let herself get flustered. More quietly, she adds, “Plus it’ll help sell that we’re a couple.”

“Sure,” Catra says. Adora tosses her the sunscreen and joins Catra on the blanket, sitting cross legged with her back to Catra. “Take that stupid hat off at least while I do this,” she says, but her voice is more playful than sharp. “I can’t think of literally anything less romantic than a wannabe cowboy. You grow up around actual farmers, you realize pretty quick they’re all mostly just assholes.” 

Catra’s hands, slippery with the sunscreen, are warm and soft and sure against Adora’s back, working the sunscreen into the exposed skin below her bikini top and above her board shorts. 

“I remember Scorpia saying she’s from the midwest, yeah. I guess you two grew up together?” 

“Yeah,” Catra says, and she’s so close Adora could swear she feels the breath of that word between her shoulder blades. “The best thing about my hometown was the part where I got to leave it. What about you? Wait - let me guess. Born in California, never left.”

“Got it in one,” Adora says, sheepishly. “Am I that much of a stereotype?”

“You’re  _ some _ sort of stereotype,” Catra mutters, and Adora has  _ no _ idea what that’s supposed to mean, but decides she probably doesn’t want to. 

“Yeah? What else do you think you know about me, having been my fake girlfriend for less than twenty-four hours?”

Catra makes a thoughtful noise as she works the sunscreen into Adora’s lower back. 

“If I had to guess? You want to get married someday. You like the idea of having two kids a couple years apart. You love your career, mostly, but you know in your heart of hearts you’d give it up if someone  _ really  _ special asked you to.”

“I don’t think I could give up my job,” Adora says, closing her eyes and leaning forward a little to give Catra more access to her back. “If anything I want to get  _ more _ serious about it. You’re right about the other stuff though. What’s wrong with wanting to get married and have kids?”

“There’s nothing  _ wrong _ with it, exactly,” Catra hedges. There’s a brief pause and then a loud PLORT sound as she gets more sunscreen - Adora fails to hide her little snort of amusement - and then she continues: “It’s just all very… predefined. I dunno. I guess you’ve never had a reason to question if it was right for you.” 

“So what about you? No kids, no marriage? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course, I just - that sounds... “ It sounds lonely, but there are other types of family, other types of community, other ways to build a home. She shouldn’t be judging Catra. “I mean, maybe it’s silly to still want all those things we were told we were supposed to want, growing up. But I guess I just… thought about it and realized it  _ is _ something I’d like to have, someday.” 

“I didn’t exactly spend a lot of time around happy married couples, growing up,” Catra says, lifting Adora’s ponytail to work the sunscreen into the back of her neck. The casual touch feels… really,  _ really _ intimate. Adora does her best not to think too hard about it. “I guess it’s just hard to imagine marriage making me happy when I’ve literally never seen it make anybody else happy.” She drops Adora’s ponytail. “Okay, that should be good.”

“Thanks,” Adora says, and stands back up, gives her limbs an experimental shake. Okay, that massage did leave her feeling pretty good. Some time in the water will be nice. She just needs to exercise a bit, burn off some excess nervous energy. “You’re good to hang out here with the stuff if I go get a little swimming in?” 

“Yep.” Catra lifts a paperback at her, gives it a meaningful wiggle. “Off with you, princess. I have a book to read and some sun to soak up.”

Adora grins, and then is briefly thrown by the feeling that - if they were  _ actually  _ dating - she’d give Catra a quick little parting kiss before running off to join her friends in the water. She holds there for one heartbeat, two, and then Catra raises an eyebrow at her and she blurts a goodbye and turns and makes a run for the water. 

Real cool, Adora. Super cool. Smooth as a… as a… thing that’s smooth. Yeah. 

She hits the water and swims some laps, bums around a bit with Mermista and Sea Hawk, then does some more laps, and then heads back to the blanket where Catra is stretched out reading her book. 

“Whew!” Adora says, wringing water from her hair, “That was fun! I feel great. How long has it been, like three hours?”

Catra tilts her nose down to look up at Adora from above the top edge of her sunglasses. 

“It’s been like twenty minutes,” she says. 

“Oh! Huh! Wow. Okay. Uh. So I guess you want to stay here a little longer then and keep reading. Or do you want to come swim? The water’s really nice.” 

Adora’s not really sure why she’s babbling. 

It’s got to be because Catra is looking at her like  _ that. _

Like she’s, uh - like she’s a babbling idiot. 

“We had a deal, princess,” Catra says, turning back to her book. “I get all afternoon to relax and do nothing, otherwise I’m not going to square dancing.” 

“Yeah, okay, that’s - that’s fine. I’m just - I guess I’m really nervous about people seeing us, you know, not doing things together.”

Catra sighs, puts her book down on the blanket spread open to her page, and then turns to look back at Adora. 

“I can’t swim,” she says.

Adora stares at her in confusion. 

“What do you mean you can’t swim?”

“I mean I can’t  _ swim.  _ I never learned how. I don’t like the water.”

“Oh,” Adora says. And then, “Huh. So I guess it’s a good thing we’re not doing those snorkeling lessons I had planned for this afternoon.” 

“Yeah,” Catra says, with a little laugh and a crooked smile. “Can you just chill for like an hour, spaz queen?” 

Adora shifts her weight from one foot to the other. 

“I just - I just feel like I have to do  _ everything _ to make sure I get my money’s worth, you know?” 

“Yeah, I could tell.” Catra shuffles over on the blanket. “Look, I’ll make you another trade. I’ll set a timer on my phone. You come take a nap in the sun next to me for an hour, and then I’ll come goof around with you in the shallows for a bit. Deal?”

Adora ponders this for a second.

“Okay. Deal.” 

Catra sets the timer in her phone and Adora sprawls out on the blanket next to her. 

“Here,” Catra says, plucking Adora’s hat off of her head, “make this stupid thing useful for something.” Everything goes a little bit darker as Catra drops the hat over Adora’s face, shielding her eyes from the sun. 

“Thanks,” Adora laughs. 

Through the loose weave of the hat, she watches Catra get cozy again with her book.

“Close your eyes,” Catra instructs, and Adora makes a guilty noise, caught peeping. “Pretend you’re calming an anxious horse or something. Be the horse trainer you need in your own life.”

“I’m not a trainer, I'm a veterinarian,” Adora mumbles. Catra offers no witty repartee to that but the soft, papery sound of a turning page.

So Adora closes her eyes, and tries to think about the feeling of the sun warm against her, the sound of the waves, the smell of the ocean air. To just relax, and let go, and not worry about work or about relationships or about her future. Slowly, slowly, the tension leaches from her body. 

She’s never been very good at sitting still, but there’s something meditative about the sound of Catra’s page turning every few minutes, something steadying in her presence. In a way, the mandate to stay by her side for an hour is freeing - like she’s allowed to do nothing for once, because it’s somehow serving a productive purpose. 

Like bread rising on a countertop. Stillness is the goal, but some quiet chemistry is still happening, still achieving something through that stillness. 

Adora awakes with a start at the sound of the chiming phone alarm.

“Holy shit,” she mutters groggily, pushing the hat off of her face and squinting in the bright sunlight, “has it been an hour already?” 

“Yeah,” Catra says, with a wry grin. “Guess you needed that nap more that you realized, huh?” 

“Mmm, maybe,” Adora groans in reply, rolling over and stretching out her back before getting to her feet. “I suddenly have a hell of a craving for a cold beer. I might wander over to the pool bar and grab one, you want anything?” 

“I’ll take a beer,” Catra says, “Thanks.” 

* * *

It takes two beers and another twenty minutes before Adora manages to coax Catra out into the water, which - 

Well, she wasn’t really thinking about it, but what it results in is Catra taking off her crop top and her jean shorts and revealing her  _ very _ cute bathing suit, which Adora is determined to not stare at. 

Bow and Glimmer show up just in time with the distraction of a wild story about crushing some other couple in an intensely competitive game of tennis, and then Glimmer produces a beach ball. 

Catra joins them in bopping the ball back and forth in the shallows, everybody giggling and rushing and splashing to try to keep the ball from hitting the water, and actually seems to be enjoying herself. She squeaks in the most adorably undignified way when Adora dives to intercept a wide pass from Sea Hawk and splashes a great burst of seawater on her in the process.

Everything is starting to feel  _ perfect,  _ almost too good to be true, when - 

Catra swears loudly out of nowhere, jerking one leg suddenly up out of the water and then losing her balance and toppling over into the shallow water. 

“Shit, Catra, are you okay??” Adora yelps, rushing over to her and extending an uncertain hand. “What happened?”

“I - ow - fuck - fucking - ow - I stepped on something,” Catra hisses, face clenched in pain. “Fuck - “ a short wave that would normally just be lapping at her knees hits her in the face; she splutters and flails, spitting out water with the beginning of panic in her eyes. 

“Okay, I’m gonna pick you up,” Adora says, making a snap decision to get Catra out of the water. She looks down around their feet, spotting the sharp edge of a broken seashell that strikes her as the likely culprit. Making sure to keep her own feet clear of it, Adora bends down and hooks one arm under Catra’s knees, one behind her back. “Put your arms around my neck, okay?” Catra nods, and once Adora feels like Catra’s got a good grip she plants her feet and lifts, then carries Catra up the beach to where their blanket is. Her friends follow nervously. 

“Oh shit, she’s bleeding,” Mermista says. 

“How bad is it?” Bow asks, hovering behind Adora. “Do we need to call for a doctor or something?”

“The nurse’s station isn’t far,” Adora says confidently, glad she spent so much time memorizing the resort map. She sets Catra down on the blanket. “Let me see your foot.” Wordlessly, Catra lifts her foot; Adora gives it a quick glance and immediately relaxes. “Okay, it’s just a superficial cut. I’m sure it hurts like hell but it’s not like you’re gonna need stitches or anything. We should still probably get it cleaned out and bandaged though.” 

Catra makes a weird, high noise, and Adora looks at her in confusion. 

“That was supposed to be a whinny,” Catra says, face tight with pain. “It’s funny because you’re a horse doctor. No? Okay. I’m allowed at least one bad joke a day.” Adora snorts, grins. She retrieves her water bottle from her bag and gives Catra’s foot a quick, cursory rinse, making her hiss in pain. 

“Okay. I’m gonna take Catra to get this cleaned up. Do you guys mind watching our stuff?”

“Not at all,” Sea Hawk says, making a grand salute. 

“Do you need help?” Bow asks. “I could run up there and see if we could get some crutches or something.” 

“It’s just a little cut,” Catra says, and - 

“I got this,” Adora interrupts, and then she picks Catra back up, steps into her flip-flops, and takes off up the path to the nurse’s station. 

“You carry all your horse patients like this?” Catra teases. “It would explain why you’re like, secretly jacked as hell.” 

“I, uh. Thanks? I. You know. Go to the gym,” Adora mumbles, suddenly becoming very aware of the fact that Catra’s body, pressed up against her torso, is largely exposed by her two piece bathing suit. “And, uh. I used to play competitive volleyball.” 

“Volleyball, huh? Not like… softball? Or… I don’t know, rugby?” 

There’s something else that Catra is asking, and Adora can’t  _ quite _ put her finger on it. 

“I played soccer and basketball, too, when I was younger? But volleyball was what I ended up getting furthest with in terms of doing it competitively. How, uh - how’s your foot?”

“It hurts like hell, but I probably could have walked if you’d just helped me limp my way up.” 

Adora risks a glance at Catra’s face, which is  _ very _ near to her own, with Catra’s arms slung around her neck again. Fuck, her eyes are so damn pretty. She’s wearing a puzzled smile. 

“Better just to carry you,” Adora says, with total confidence, slipping back into triage mode. “It’s faster and then you don’t risk getting sand and dirt and stuff in it.” 

“My hero,” Catra purrs, and Adora can only hope that Catra mistakes her vivid blush for some kind of rapid onset sunburn. 

* * *

When night falls and they all meet up for dinner at their group’s assigned table, it seems like  _ everybody _ who was at the beach that afternoon is sending Adora knowing little smirks. 

Scorpia fawns over Catra, deeply worried about what turned out to be a pretty minor and easily patched up cut, and makes much too big of a deal out of the fact that Adora and her veterinary medicine skills ‘saved the day’. 

They stay up late drinking and playing Russian rummy with an old deck of cards Sea Hawk brought, sharing stories about what they got up to today and plan to do tomorrow.

“I have rock climbing in the morning, and tennis lessons in the afternoon on the schedule for tomorrow,” Adora says.

“I will allow the rock climbing,” Catra says, “I’m vetoing tennis. I have something else I want to do instead.”

“Oh, and karaoke night is tomorrow night!!” Glimmer exclaims, laying down her hand and neatly winning the final round. “I expect all of you to be there, and I expect all of you to sing.”

“Oh, fuck,” Adora groans, with drunken honesty, “I forgot you were making me do that.”

“Don’t worry, Sparkles,” Catra cackles, patting Adora’s shoulder, “I’ll make sure she’s got a margarita in hand before noon and get her to you good and sloshed and ready to sing in time for karaoke night.” 

“I’m doomed,” Adora moans, putting her head on the table. 

  
  



	3. Tuesday

Adora wakes up with a snort at the sound of her alarm. 

She tries to roll over to turn it off, but something is weighing down her arm, pinning it to the bed, and her legs are tangled up in - 

“Fuck,” Catra grumbles, scrambling away from Adora’s side of the bed, “Sorry.” 

Dazed and still half asleep, Adora just barely stops herself from whining at the warm person in her bed to come back into her arms.

The alarm is still going. She’s gotta turn it off.

“S’all good,” she mumbles, sliding her finger across the screen and deactivating the alarm. With a groan, she forces herself up and out of the clean, cozy sheets.

It’s time to start her second full day of vacation. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Rock climbing goes surprisingly well - the resort’s top rope facilities are pretty small, no more than ten set routes to choose from, but to Adora’s relief it’s something Catra’s done before so neither of them have to waste much time with the instructor going over how to secure the harness and the rope or how to belay for your partner. 

“What are you fucking grinning about?” Catra yells up at her, when she smacks the top of the climbing wall for the fourth time that morning and then turns back to make sure Catra’s ready to take her weight and lower her down. 

“I’ve missed climbing! It’s fun!” She hollers back down. “Ready?” 

“Yep!” Catra sits back into her harness and braces herself, and Adora releases her hold on the wall, pushing off gently with her toes as Catra feeds the rope back through her end and lowers her once more to the ground. 

“How’d that one look?” Adora asks with a grin, once she’s surefooted again, and immediately sets about unhooking her harness so that she and Catra can trade places. 

“I thought for sure you weren’t gonna make that leap right at the end there,” Catra says, pointing upwards to the spot where Adora brute forced her way past a tricky handhold. “You know there was a spot you could have put your foot, right? You see it up there, under the big orange handhold?” 

“Oh, shit, you’re right, I see it now. That sure as hell would have made it easier. But hey, I made it!” She is, admittedly, starting to get tired now. “You wanna go again?”

“I think I’ve got one more in me,” Catra says, with an eager flash in her eyes, and then, “You’re  _ still _ grinning. Why do you look so excited when it’s not even your turn to climb?” 

“Dylan hated rock climbing,” Adora says, with a nonchalant shrug, still smiling. “I haven’t done it in a while - it’s just not the same with an auto-belay. I think I’d forgotten how much fun it is to climb with a partner that’s actually having a good time.” 

“Your ex sounds like a bore. Come on, clip in. I wanna try the route you just did.” 

* * *

“Hey, so, I asked Will at breakfast if it was possible to get some bottles of beer in our minifridge,” Catra says as Adora unlocks their suite door. “We should check to see if those magically appeared at some point.”

“Oh, good thinking,” Adora enthuses, rolling her pleasantly tired shoulders as she wanders over to the minifridge to pull it open and see. “Damn, he’s good. There they are. You tipped him, right?”

“Yeah. Do you want the shower first, or can I?”

“Go for it, I don’t mind going second.”

“Throw me a beer then - they’re cold, right?”

“They are,” Adora says, pulling one of the slim-necked bottles out and twisting to hand it to Catra. “Ugh, I haven’t had a shower beer in ages, that’s such a good idea.”

“I’m full of them,” Catra says, with a wink, and then slips into the bathroom. 

That wink lights a familiar fire in Adora’s abdomen, and suddenly she’s picturing how nice it would be after that morning of climbing to be getting into the shower with Catra, the hot water cascading over them, the bright, crisp contrast of a cold beer that they’re sharing back and forth in between hot kisses, and - 

Adora huffs, shakes her head. Okay, she’s got to stop letting herself think those kinds of thoughts about Catra. 

Hell, it’s… sort of tempting to use the couple minutes Catra’s in the shower to blow off a little steam. It’s not like she’s had the opportunity at any point in the last couple of days, so…

Keeping one furtive ear on the sound of the shower, Adora kicks her flipflops off and climbs under the covers of their bed. She slips a hand down the front of her shorts, biting her lip and closing her eyes.

The bed smells like Catra.

Embarrassed guilt at the realization stills her hand for a moment, and then - 

And then she decides to just go for it anyways. 

She’s  _ almost  _ there when the sound of the shower stops, and she  _ yanks _ her hand out of her shorts and scrambles out of the bed and quickly tries to remake it in the neat, orderly way it was when they got back from the rock climbing. 

Okay. Alright. Act natural. Everything’s fine.

She can finish in the shower. Yeah. That’s a good idea. 

Oh, and a beer! Yeah, she definitely wants a cold beer right now. 

Just as Adora’s pulling the beer from the fridge, trying not to think about that throbbing, unsatisfied sensation between her thighs, she hears the bathroom door come open and catches the fresh, humid aroma of soap and shampoo, and she looks reflexively. 

Catra saunters past in just a towel, her half-finished beer dangling from her fingers, and Adora’s gaze slips down and takes in a hungry eyeful of her naked calves, damp from the shower. 

She wrenches her stare back to her own beer bottle, twists the cap off with her bare hand, and takes her first swig before even closing the mini fridge. 

“All yours,” Catra says. 

“Thanks,” Adora says, and rushes into the bathroom. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


“So, what are we doing this afternoon instead of tennis?” Adora asks, brushing out her hair. 

(She ended up too worried about Catra overhearing her to finish herself off in the shower, but she did certainly finish off that beer.)

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Catra says, with a grin. “And no complaining allowed.”

“Okay,” Adora says, as she pulls her hair back into a damp ponytail, eyeing the cute short sleeved button up that Catra has thrown on and only barely ‘buttoned up’, to the point that the top edge of her bra cup is  _ definitely  _ visible from this angle. She’s… pretty sure she’s past the point of ever wanting to complain about spending time around Catra. 

Whew. Okay. Maybe she drank that beer a little too quickly. 

“Are we getting lunch first?” Adora asks, pondering her options for different clean shirts to change into. She should probably get some food into her stomach to anchor herself a little. 

“We’ll eat there,” Catra says. Adora hears the sound of the bed rustling, and then Catra is beside her at the wardrobe. “If I promise to get all your drinks tonight, tips included, can I convince you to wear literally anything other than another damn aloha shirt?” 

Adora feels the smirk spread across her face more than she really does it consciously. 

“What?” She teases, “You don’t like being seen with someone who thinks bright colors are fun?” Her smirk grows. “I thought you said I needed to relax. Enjoy myself.” 

Catra is standing so, so close. 

“I think,” Catra says, smirking without looking at Adora as she flicks through the various shirts Adora’s hung up in the suite’s dresser, “You should wear  _ this _ tonight.” She pulls out a plain white cotton button up. 

“Really?” Adora says, with a frown, taking it from her and looking at it. “I’m always worried this one makes me look like I’m some kind of wannabe yacht owner.” 

“Trust me and put on the damn shirt,” Catra says, with a quirk to the corner of her mouth. 

“Alright,” Adora laughs, pulling it off the hanger and tugging it on over her undershirt.

* * *

Catra slips her hand into Adora’s as they walk up the path past the pool and into the cluster of buildings up the slope. Adora has to remind herself that this is the deal, that they’re supposed to be pretending to be together. 

Her heart beats a little faster, despite this conscious reminder. 

Catra leads them up to a building with a wide patio and open access through a sliding wall that has been opened up to the cheerful afternoon sun. 

“Oh,” Adora says, consulting her mental map of the resort, “This is the piano lounge! I meant to check this out at some point.” Now that she’s listening for it, she can hear the tinkling of piano trickling out into the warm air as they approach. 

“Catra! You made it!” Scorpia leans out over the wooden railing of the patio, wearing a bright orange Hawaiian shirt and holding a cocktail. “I knew you wouldn’t miss this!” 

“See?” Adora whispers into Catra’s ear, bumping their shoulders. “How come  _ she’s  _ allowed to wear Hawaiian shirts and I’m not?” 

“Oh, you’re  _ allowed  _ to, princess,” Catra purrs, “But I reserve the right to make fun of you if you do.” 

They join Scorpia and Perfuma at their table, where they’ve got a good view of the immaculately glossy grand piano that serves as the centerpiece of this half-indoors, half-outdoors bar. 

“What do you want to drink?” Catra asks, as Adora flops down into the seat across from Perfuma. 

“Oh, you don’t have to - “ Adora quickly says, and Catra cuts her off with the wave of a hand.

“I promised Sparkles I’d deliver you to karaoke tonight good and sloshed. Anyways, we’re on vacation, we did a fuckton of physical activities this morning - it’s time for some day drinking. What do you want?” 

“Surprise me,” Adora says, unable to stop herself from smiling. 

Catra laughs. 

“Sure thing, princess.”

Adora watches her walk away.

She watches for… much, much longer than she probably should. 

“So,” Scorpia says, and Adora jumps and yanks her attention back to the couple across from her. “Adora! Having fun so far? Everything going okay with the… you know?” She makes some vague hand gesture that presumably is meant to refer to their ongoing efforts at subterfuge. 

“Oh! Yeah, yeah, no, yes. Everything is. Everything is good. It’s so beautiful here! And the activities are - they’re  _ great.  _ Just great. You know. How about you two? What have you been getting up to?” 

“Oh, we’ve been doing a lot of nature walks in the sanctuary that’s attached to the resort,” Scorpia says brightly, sending a soft, affectionate look in Perfuma’s direction. “It’s been  _ so _ relaxing. I could listen to Perfuma talk about plants all day.” 

Perfuma gives a shy little giggle and then leans in and presses a kiss to Scorpia’s face. Scorpia makes a noise of pleased surprise and then kisses her back, and Adora bashfully averts her gaze, turning reflexively to look at Catra where she’s chatting at the bar with the bartender. 

“So, Adora,” Perfuma says, and Adora jerks her attention back to the couple with a bland yes-I’m-totally-listening smile, “Things are… good? Between you and Catra?” 

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah! She’s great. I’m so happy, you know, to be able to bring my girlfriend to a beautiful place like this.” Did that sound forced? Yeah, it sounded pretty forced. Ugh, acting is  _ hard.  _ Why are they putting her on the spot like this? 

Catra returns to their table then, thankfully, carrying two very large, very pink drinks. 

“Oh, thanks!” Adora says. She takes a sip and has to blink away her initial shock, it’s so cold and sugary and  _ potently _ alcoholic. “What even is this?” 

“Shh, it’s starting,” Catra says, turning her chair to face the central stage. Adora hadn’t noticed the other musicians setting up, but now in addition to the piano there’s a cellist and a violinist and a trumpet player. 

“Oh,” Adora whispers, “Is this what we’re doing this afternoon?” 

“It’s a jazz performance,” Scorpia whispers back. “Did you know Catra used to play cello? She was really good at it, too!” 

Catra shushes them both, leaning back in her chair with her drink cradled in her hands, eyes intent on the musicians. The pianist taps out a bold, attention-grabbing sequence of notes, then introduces all the musicians by name. The crowd claps politely after each one, and Adora realizes the tables have all filled up and resort employees have started bringing around menus. 

The introductions finish and the cellist begins to play, a series of low, mournful notes, then leans in towards her microphone and begins to sing. 

Adora doesn’t know much about music, but she sounds  _ talented,  _ even to Adora’s inexperienced ears. As the woman pours out the first few smoky words of the song, Catra’s eyes flutter shut, and a small, vulnerable smile tugs at her mouth. 

This is definitely a side of Catra Adora hasn’t seen yet. 

Something twists inside of her chest, something covetous and soft and easily tangled. 

Catra’s eyelashes are so dark and fragile and elegant against the warm freckle-flecked brown skin of her face. Her smile is gently rapturous. Adora feels like somehow she appreciates the music more, seeing how much it’s moving Catra. 

The pianist joins in, and then the violinist, and Adora just keeps watching Catra, keeps sipping her drink. 

When lunch arrives, they eat without talking, all held by the magic spell of the alluring, sensual music. Adora barely tastes her food. 

She has one drink, then two, then three.

And she still can’t seem to look away from Catra. 

She can’t seem to stop thinking about how badly she wants to be the center of her attention. 

To be the object held in such intense admiration, the song so sweet she has to close her eyes to appreciate it. 

She wants to be the one to make Catra feel like that. 

“That was amazing,” Catra says, when the musicians finish their set and the applause has died down. She turns to Adora, looking at her for the first time since the music started. “Thank you,” she says, earnestly. 

“For what?” Adora asks, blushing, definitely drunk. 

“For being flexible,” Catra says, and the sincerity of it warms Adora more than any of the three very strong, definitely rum-based drinks she’s been chugging. 

“Yeah, y’know. No problem. Anything for you, babe,” she blurts, and Catra looks at her in surprise, and then  _ laughs.  _

“You’re  _ trashed,”  _ she accuses, delight sparkling in her pretty, pretty eyes. “Oh my  _ god,  _ karaoke is going to be fun.”

And then it hits Adora.

An idea.

A  _ brilliant  _ idea. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Once the sun is down and the group has gathered at the resort’s cliffside lookout bar for the karaoke night, it takes Adora a while (and a few more drinks) to work up the courage to go through with her plan. 

“Did you bring it?” She hisses to Bow, wiggling excitedly. 

“Yeah,” he says, laughing, and hands Adora her room key and  _ the object _ under the table. “Just how drunk are you?” 

“Drunk enough,” Adora says, giving him a big, theatrical wink. 

“Drunk Adora, drunk Adora!” Glimmer chants excitedly, no small amount of inebriated herself. She’s already been up to sing several times, as has Scorpia and Sea Hawk. “Oh my god, Adora, are you finally going to sing?” 

And then that’s when Adora’s name is called, and - holding down an excited giggle - she rushes up to the stage with her little surprise item hidden behind her back. 

She goes up to the microphone, flush with foolish, giddy glee. 

This is a  _ great _ plan.

“I’d like to dedicate this song to my girlfriend Catra,” Adora says, smirking, hands behind her back still. Her eyes find Catra at their table, a drink in hand and one leg thrown over the other, expression deeply amused. “It would be a bit of an understatement to say she’s not really a fan of country music.” The audience of loving couples all laughs at that, each no doubt with their own little disagreements of taste in mind. Catra laughs too, shaking her head in disbelief, and it makes Adora’s heart do a little nervous flip. “I’m hoping tonight I can change her mind.” And then she pulls the cowboy hat out from behind her back, and tugs it firmly on her head. The whole bar hoots and cheers and whistles in encouragement, and Catra puts her drink down so she can cover her face with both her hands. 

The DJ takes that as their cue to start the track.

The song starts with the twang of country-style electric guitar, a hit of percussion, and then the band swinging in. Catra lowers her hands from her face, looks quizzical, almost like she’s  _ sure _ she recognizes the song. Adora winks, smirks, sways her hips to the beat, and then, leaning in to the microphone and making the words as low and husky as she can, launches into it.

“Baby lock the door and turn the lights down low!” 

There is a yell of enthusiasm from the audience that she knows must be Glimmer, but she only has eyes for Catra. Catra’s lips are pursed in the obvious expression of someone trying  _ very _ hard not to smile. 

But Adora doesn’t want her to smile, or to laugh. Adora wants her to feel something  _ else.  _

She slowly undoes the top button of the shirt Catra picked out for her, holding eye contact.

“Put some music on that’s  _ soft  _ and  _ slow,”  _ she purrs into the mic, licking her lips and then smirking across the room. “Baby we ain’t got no place to go.” She tries to fill the words with the raw hunger she’s been feeling all afternoon, tries to sing them like the lusty caress of her eyes down Catra’s bare calves, “I hope you understand!” 

Across the room, Catra’s face changes, goes soft, goes - 

Wanting?

Fuck, Adora hopes she’s reading that right. 

“I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout this all day long,” she croons, holding the mic stand, stroking one hand up and down it whimsically, like she and that mic stand are a pair of exhibitionist lovers, “Never felt a feelin’ quite this strong.”

She holds Catra’s eyes for this next part,  _ smirking _ at the thought that maybe, just maybe, she’s managing to make Catra feel flustered - 

“I can’t believe how much it  _ turns _ me  _ on,”  _ she sings, stepping forward so that the mic stand is tilted between her legs, much like she wishes Catra’s thigh were pressed between her legs right now, “Just to be your  _ man.”  _ She curls a laughing irony around this last word, too drunk to really genderbend the lyrics on the fly but still sober enough to find it funny to slot herself into that role, given that she and Catra are both pretty clearly not interested in _ men. _

She takes a step back again, touches the brim of her hat and pulls it a little lower over her hooded eyes, raises her eyebrows and smirks at Catra.

“There’s no hurry - don’t you worry - “ Adora winks, and Catra mouth seems to actually be hanging open a little, “ - we can take our  _ time.”  _

Adora releases the microphone stand and plays with the next button of her shirt, watching Catra watching her. “Come a little closer… let’s go over… what I had in  _ mind.”  _ She pops the button open to punctuate the end of the line. She’s  _ sure _ now that she’s not just imagining the way Catra is eyeing her, and that makes her smirk even wider, her drawl even cockier and hungrier. 

“Baby lock the door and turn the lights down low, put some music on that’s soft and slow,” she sings, her body throbbing with booze and confidence and desire, thinking about how badly she wants to kiss Catra and how much she hopes it happens tonight. “Baby we ain’t got no place to go.”

She raises one eyebrow pointedly, touches her upper lip with the tip of her tongue. 

“I hope you understand.” 

Catra doesn’t tear her eyes away for an instant, but she does lift her drink to her lips as if in a trance and take a long, long sip. 

“I been thinkin’ bout this all day long,'' Adora sings, knowing the instrumental section in the middle of the song is coming up, already making her plans for how to use it - “Never felt a feelin’ quite this strong.” She takes the mic out of the stand in anticipation, pacing to the edge of the stage, sitting down and draping her legs over the side of it, leaning forward towards the crowd like she’s sharing a secret with them. “I can’t  _ believe _ how much it  _ turns me on…  _ just to be your  _ man. _ ”

It’s dark in here, but she could  _ swear _ Catra is blushing.

The interlude starts.

“Come on up here, baby,” Adora purrs confidently into the mic, extending a hand towards Catra, glad she’s so tipsy. She could  _ never  _ have done this sober. 

Their table whistles and cheers and bullies Catra up out of her seat, and Catra makes her way through the tables and to the edge of the stage, taking Adora’s hand. 

“You’re such an idiot,” Catra chuckles, for Adora’s ears only, as their faces come close. 

“Yeah?” Adora murmurs back, grinning. “Then why’s your face so red, Catra?”

Then Adora hauls her up onto the stage and stands back up, holding her hand still as she returns the microphone to her mouth in time to sing the next line after the instrumental section ends. 

“Ain't no body,” Adora sings, swinging their arms and grinning, “ever loved no body!” Catra grins back at her at that word, because they’re sharing a little secret, a little joke that they aren’t in love, that they’re fooling everybody into thinking that they are - “The way that I love you!” 

Adora spins Catra, and Catra obligingly allows it, laughter sparkling in her eyes. Then Adora spins her back the other way, pulling her in close, ending with them pressed together. They lock eyes, and the chemistry and tension feels so thick Adora’s pretty sure she can taste it. The microphone between their faces is, truth be told, probably the only thing stopping Adora from going in for a kiss then and there. 

“We’re alone now,” Adora croons, wishing that they were, in fact, alone right now, “You don’t know know how - long I’ve  _ wanted _ to - “ their faces are so close, so close, and then - 

Adora playfully releases her and backs away, tugging at her hat, smirking at Catra, daring her to give chase. 

“Lock the door and turn the lights down low…” she grins when, instead of following her, Catra raises one eyebrow and crosses her arms stubbornly. Adora holds out a hand, inviting. “Put some music on that’s soft and slow.” With performative, flirty reluctance, Catra takes Adora’s hand. “Baby we ain’t got no place to go.” Adora walks backwards, carefully leading Catra back to the center of the stage. “I hope you understand!” 

There’s a stool set up for people who want to sit while they sing, and Adora backs Catra up into that stool and smirks when she sits down into it reflexively. 

“I been thinkin’ ‘bout this all day long,” Adora sings, looking victoriously down at Catra, stepping in even closer, stopping just shy of giving her a full on country lap dance on stage in front of a bunch of strangers and resort employees, “Never felt a feelin’ that was  _ quite _ this strong.” 

Catra’s definitely blushing as Adora leans in close, takes Catra’s hand, and places it on her own waist. 

“I can’t believe how much it turns me on,” Adora sings, low and hungry and earnest, “Just to be your man.” She plucks her cowboy hat off and then slips it onto Catra’s head, winking. “I can’t believe how much it turns me on…” Adora reaches in like she’s going to touch Catra’s face, and then instead gives the hat the smallest of adjustments. “Just to be your man.” 

The song ends and everybody claps. Adora backs away from Catra, still smirking, and offers her a hand to help her off the stool.

* * *

The energy between them the rest of the night is different -  _ charged  _ \- and Adora nearly sighs with audible relief when Catra finally suggests they crash for the night. 

“You’ve got the key, right,” Catra says, turning around at the door to their suite, and Adora can’t stand how beautiful she is, painted in starlight and limned by the golden glow of the path markers. She takes a step in; Catra seems to sense the intent in Adora’s body language, backs herself up against the door. 

Desire pops and crackles and growls inside of Adora.

She brings their bodies together, puts a hand on Catra’s waist, and leans in to kiss her. 

A hand comes up to block her, fingers kindly but firmly stopping the advance of her mouth. 

“Adora,” Catra says, “You’re drunk.” 

“A little,” Adora concedes. “But it’s - I promise this isn’t just because I’m drunk.” 

“You’re sweet,” Catra says, “And I’m flattered. But I’m not interested in doing this.”

“Oh,” Adora says, suddenly cold, and embarrassed, and ashamed. She backs away, confused. She was so  _ sure _ \- 

“Sorry,” Catra says. “I just - look, you’re  _ really _ drunk. You’ll be relieved in the morning when you didn’t do anything. Trust me.” Catra takes the suite key from Adora’s pocket, unlocks their door, and pushes it open. “Go drink a glass of water and crash, alright? I’m gonna take a walk. I’ll see you in the morning?” 

“I - okay, uh - I - I’m sorry if - ?”

“Goodnight, Adora.” 

Catra ushers her inside, flashes her a weary, wistful smile, and then shuts the door on her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Adora sings at karaoke is [this one](https://open.spotify.com/track/1WzAeadSKJhqykZFbJNmQv)!


	4. Wednesday

Adora is snoring when Catra wakes up, head pounding. 

She feels awful, and not just because of the hangover. It’s the third morning, so she’s starting to get used to the slightly grimy, slightly headachey start to every day on this alcohol-heavy adventure. 

She sits up and glances over at Adora, who looks the same as Catra found her after coming back from her walk last night - stripped down to yesterday’s undershirt and boxer briefs and then collapsed into bed with her flipflops still dangling from her toes, which somehow didn’t come off with her cargo shorts.

What kind of straight girl wears boxer briefs and cargo shorts? 

Catra sighs, rubs her face, climbs out of bed.  _ She,  _ at least, managed to change into pajamas before falling asleep. 

Adora had a  _ lot _ to drink yesterday. 

After a moment’s thought, Catra pops into the bathroom, fills a glass with water from the tap, shakes a couple of extra strength painkillers out of her family sized bottle of them - essential for any travel kit - and then leaves the water and the pills on Adora’s bedside table. She’s careful to place the glass out of range of any early-morning flailing. 

Okay. Alright. She feels a little less guilty now.

Without bothering to change out of her pajamas, Catra plucks her sunglasses off the bedside table, pulls on her sandals, grabs the room key, and then leaves Adora to her snoring. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Scorpia looks surprised when she opens the door to Catra’s knock.

“Hey Wildcat,” she says, stifling a yawn, “everything okay?” 

“I had a weird night,” Catra says, glancing around to make sure none of the other guests or employees see her. “I was kinda hoping to steal some one on one time with you before everybody gets up for breakfast and then you vanish again on a nature hike with your girlfriend or something.” 

“Oh,” Scorpia says, then, “One second.” She closes the door, then a moment later reemerges wearing sandals and a loose sweatshirt over the old shorts and tank top she clearly sleeps in. “Walk down the beach okay? I’d invite you in, but Perfuma’s still sleeping, and she, uh - she definitely sleeps - you know - “ Scorpia laughs sheepishly, “ -  _ au naturel,  _ if you follow my French.”

“Sure,” Catra says, with a fond smile for her oldest friend, biting back the comment that that’s definitely  _ not _ how that saying goes. 

“So,” Scorpia says, as they meander down the path to the beach. Thankfully nobody else seems to be up and about this early. “What happened last night?”

“Uh, well, for one thing,” Catra says, “Adora tried to kiss me. And not like, a pretend-relationship, faking it for a camera kind of kiss.”

“Oh! Okay. So. I notice that you said she  _ tried _ to, not that she  _ did.”  _

“Well, I stopped her, obviously.” Catra’s eyeballs hurt. She probably should have downed some painkillers while she was getting them out for Adora. “She was clearly just really, really drunk.”

“Oh,” Scorpia says, then nods. “Yeah, she did seem to be knocking back those drinks.”

“Yeah,” Catra says, “The drinks  _ I  _ was bringing her.”

“Ah,” Scorpia murmurs. “Ah! Yeah. Okay. I see what you’re getting at. Yeah, very good call on not going through with the kissing, then. ”

“Yeah,” Catra grunts. “So. That was… how the night ended. She tried to kiss me, I stopped her and put her to bed and didn’t come back to the room until I was sure she was asleep.”

“So do you think you’re gonna talk to her about it once she’s awake and sober?”

“I mean, hell, I don’t even know if she’ll  _ remember _ it. Maybe it’d be easier if she didn’t.” 

“What? Why? I mean, don’t you, I don’t know, maybe... want to kiss her while she’s sober?”

Catra scoffs. 

“I got enough of making out with curious straight girls and then getting my heart broken in college,” she mutters. “Even  _ if _ I’m pretty sure this chick is gay as hell and just has no idea.”

“Wait,” Scorpia says, stopping suddenly. “We’re talking about Adora, right?” 

“Uh, yeah? Who else would we be talking about?” 

Catra wraps her arms around herself; this close to sunrise, there’s actually a bit of a chilly breeze coming off the water. 

“I just - I think - maybe I’m not understanding here -  _ Adora?  _ She’s uh - she is  _ definitely _ not straight.”

“You’re telling  _ me,”  _ Catra scoffs, starting up the walk again, forcing Scorpia to jog to catch up. “Sure wish  _ she _ realized that.” 

“No, uh, I really - um - I think I’m confused here. Where did you get the idea that Adora thinks she’s straight? Like, I realize the timing of the breakup with Dylan was a little rough, maybe she’s kind of, I don’t know, maybe rethinking some things about herself after that? But she’s  _ never _ given me the impression that, you know, she was uncertain about  _ that. _ ” 

Okay, now Scorpia is just making  _ Catra _ confused. 

“Yeah, her ex- _boyfriend_ Dylan. Like, maybe she’s bi or something, and I just didn’t pick that up, but you heard her at the airport, right? When she pretty much came out and said she wasn’t expecting me to actually be a lesbian? Did you not see the weird way she was looking at the rainbow flag patch on my bag?”

Beside her, Scorpia suddenly starts laughing.

* * *

Catra is sitting on the bed staring at that fucking cowboy hat and feeling like the world's biggest idiot when the sound of running water finally stops and then, a few minutes later, the bathroom door cracks open. 

“Oh,” Adora says, clutching her towel around herself, “Hey.” 

“Hey,” Catra says, sitting up a little straighter, trying to figure out what to do with her nervous hands. Her heart feels like she’s just finished running a marathon. 

“Uh - look - so,” Adora starts, standing awkwardly in the doorway to the bathroom, “About last night - I’m really sorry if I, you know, crossed any boundaries, and - “

“Adora,” Catra says, cutting her off, “You’re fine. I just - fuck. I can’t believe you’ve been gay this entire time.”

“I -  _ what?”  _

“Dylan,” Catra says, cutting to the chase, feeling like she owes Adora an explanation for her weird, standoffish behaviour this entire trip. “I thought Dylan was a dude. I thought you were freaked out by me being gay.” 

“I - “ Adora’s face scrunches up into total, uncomprehending bemusement. Catra can see her  _ thinking,  _ running the events of the last three days over in her head, and then Adora blinks rapidly and a baffled, lopsided, astonished grin spreads across her face. “You thought I was  _ straight??”  _

“Yeah, I’m just as amazed as you are, honestly,” Catra drawls dryly. “I probably should have figured it out the moment you changed into cargo shorts and called yourself a daddy.” Adora  _ blushes,  _ and with only a towel between her body and Catra’s eyes, it’s _ very _ apparent that the heat is going all the way down her neck, presumably right to -

Okay, Catra, maybe let’s not jump ahead quite so quickly. 

“Anyways - uh - don’t worry about last night. Honestly, I felt kind of bad for how drunk you got, since I kept pushing drinks on you all afternoon.”

“You weren’t pushing,” Adora says, fidgeting with the top of her towel. “But yeah, I  _ was _ really drunk. I’m - y’know, I appreciate that you were - y’know, trying not to take advantage.” 

Catra’s not totally sure what to say to that, now that it’s all out in the open.

Adora keeps standing there in just her towel, and then - 

“Oh,” Catra says, “I can - I can leave so you can change, if you want. Sorry.” 

“I - um - I’ll be fast. Did I sleep through breakfast?” 

“What, miss wears-a-watch-on-vacation didn’t check the time immediately upon becoming conscious?” Catra teases reflexively. Adora seems to get even redder, if that’s possible. 

God, she’s cute. 

“I just really wanted a shower. Oh and - thanks for the aspirin and the water.” 

Adora averts her eyes, and Catra feels a lick of hunger inside of her. There’s just something magical about seeing a tall, athletic, breathtakingly beautiful jock get  _ flustered _ over something as small as a glass of water. 

Hopefully she hasn’t totally fucked up her chances after last night - 

“It’s still pretty early,” Catra says, putting Adora out of her misery. “Scorpia was just getting ready to wake Perfuma up and head up for breakfast when I got back.”

“Okay. Cool. I’m uh. I’m gonna. Get dressed, then.” 

“I’m just gonna slip into the bathroom, then. I haven’t brushed my teeth or anything yet.”

“Sure, yeah, okay.” 

They do a nervous little dance around each other, Adora getting out of the way so that Catra can go past. 

Catra shuts the bathroom door gently behind her. Okay. That could have been worse. 

A little awkward, maybe, but hey, at least the most awkward possible part is out of the way now, right? 

* * *

“We are  _ going _ to the nude beach today,” Glimmer announces imperiously over breakfast. “Today is the day! I’m not letting  _ any _ of you chicken out!” 

Catra freezes, grateful for the way her aviators hide her eyes, and glances immediately over at Adora. She’s somehow not surprised to see Adora looking right back at her with a deer-in-the-headlights expression. Just yesterday, Catra’d have assumed it was because she was worried about being ogled by her unexpectedly gay fake girlfriend.

Now that she sees it for what it is - 

Fuck, Catra can’t believe it took her this long to figure it out. 

A smirk slides unbidden across her face. 

“I’m in if you’re in, princess,” she finds herself saying. “I’m not afraid of getting tits out on a tropical vacation.” She tilts her head so that her sunglasses slip down her nose and allow her to make eye contact with Adora. “You wouldn’t let your girlfriend go to a nude beach without you, would you?” 

Oh,  _ hell,  _ the way Adora turns bright red is so,  _ so _ unsubtle. How did she not see it??

“Oh - I mean - uh - if you’re,” Adora splutters. “If you’re okay with that, I mean - if that - y’know - sounds like fun to  _ you -  _ ” 

Catra’s not sure where things are going between the two of them, not sure if after last night’s rejection Adora is still even interested or if it really was just the booze talking, but - 

“Yeah,” she grins, “That  _ does _ sound fun to me.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


“And that,” Sea Hawk declares, turning a blazing smoulder on Mermista from across the bar, “Is when I knew that we were  _ destined _ to be together!” 

The group cracks up with laughter at the conclusion to the story - Mermista blushes and makes a face at her boyfriend, and behind the bar Will struggles to finish pouring the last shot without spilling, he’s laughing so hard. 

“Alright, my friends, here we are,” he says, putting the tray of shots on the bartop. “I have no doubt you’ll have a  _ wonderful _ time on our clothing-free section of the beach. It’s really much more relaxing and freeing than you might expect it to be.”

Catra takes a shot, then flashes a look at Adora and winks, holding the shotglass up to her. 

“Cheers, princess,” she purrs, as they clink their glasses together. 

“Cheers,” Adora says, one of her eyebrows quirking up, a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. 

All eight of them throw back their shots in unison, and then, chattering and giggling with obvious nerves, they head down to the ‘clothing-free’ beach as a group. 

Once they’re through the privacy barrier, Catra looks around with mild curiosity - yep, those are naked people, alright - but it honestly doesn’t seem that different from the regular beach. Everybody is just relaxing, sunbathing, swimming or wading, reading books and sipping drinks and chatting. There’s nothing especially sexual about it. 

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Glimmer says in an undertone.

“What do you  _ mean?  _ It was _ your  _ idea!” Adora hisses, betraying her nerves.

“It seemed like it would be a good bonding experience!” Glimmer squeaks. 

“Aw, Sparkles, don’t tell me you’re  _ chickening out?”  _ Catra teases.

“No! We’re doing this! Come on, Bow! There’s a good spot over there!” 

They move as one big group past the little tiki bar that’s playing cheerful summer anthems from a small but powerful speaker and enabling people to top up on beverages without having to get dressed again. Glimmer picks a spot and they all lay out their blankets and towels, creating a loose rectangle with a pair on each corner. Catra’s heart is doing that loud thumpy thing again, now that the nudity is imminent. 

The others start to shuck their clothes, but Catra’s really only paying attention to Adora, who is smoothing out the beach blanket in their corner, meticulously adjusting it with entirely too much determination. 

Catra laughs, low and breathy, and crouches down next to her. 

“You don’t have to do this if you aren’t comfortable with it,” she murmurs into Adora’s ear. Adora flashes her a shy little smile, brushes a loose strand of golden hair back behind that ear, and then finally leaves off fussing with the blanket. 

“I’m okay with it if you are,” Adora says, keeping her voice quiet, her expression furtive. 

“You’re blushing,” Catra points out, happy to get revenge for last night’s slow, twangy death-by-flirtation. “What happened to all that swaggering confidence when you were on stage, doing a little strip tease in front of a dozen strangers, huh?” 

Adora huffs a laugh, somehow bashful and cocky all in one soft sound. 

“Must’ve been the hat,” she says, grinning through her blush, standing up and fiddling nervously with the top button of her shirt. 

“Must’ve been the hat,” Catra agrees with a smirk, stretching back up to standing as well, face to face with her ‘girlfriend’. “Ready when you are?”

“Can we do a countdown?” 

Catra  _ laughs.  _

“You nerd. Yeah, sure. On ‘go’. Three… two… one, and -  _ Adora?”  _ Catra purrs, leaning in close, but not so close that they’re touching. “You’re allowed to  _ look,  _ you know.” Adora lets out a loud, heavy exhale, eyes going wide, expression going  _ hungry.  _ “Go!” 

And then Catra turns her back to Adora and quickly - fast enough that she can’t lose her nerve - pulls her shirt up over her head, unclasps her bra and slips out of it, and then undoes her shorts and pushes them down along with her panties. 

She’s not sure if she imagines the sucked-in breath she hears from behind her, but, for the sake of her ego, she chooses to believe it was real. 

She tosses her clothes in a pile with her bag and then turns around to face Adora again, trying to seem cool and confident and aloof even though her pulse is thundering nervously like she’s never been naked in front of another woman before.

Adora’s still frantically undoing buttons, and then her shirt - a green one with macaws on it, today - comes open, exposing the grey band of her sports bra and the tight, hard plane of her stomach. 

Catra could swear her mouth fucking fills with saliva at the sight of the sharp V of muscle leading down into her shorts. She starts to lose herself in the study of the thick, wiry hair that starts around Adora’s navel and trails down into those shorts, and forcibly jerks her eyes back up.

Adora’s hands have stilled on her shirt now that Catra is fully naked and turned around to face her. 

Adora is  _ staring.  _

Catra raises an eyebrow at her, straightens up a little in a way she hopes is flattering. 

“You gonna leave me hanging?” She murmurs. 

Adora swallows, and the movement pulls Catra’s eyes to her throat, holding it there as Adora shrugs out of the shirt and exposes her shoulders, her collarbones - 

Fuck, who gave this wannabe cowboy gay-ass horse doctor the right to be so gorgeous? 

Catra yanks her eyes up to Adora’s face, noticing hesitation in her movements.

“Do you not want me to look?” She asks Adora quietly, hoping the rest of the group is too absorbed in their own embarrassed, excited vulnerability to be paying the two of them any attention. 

Adora licks her lips - fuck, Catra can’t believe she somehow had the willpower to resist those lips last night - and then says, low and hoarse:

“I  _ want _ you to look.” 

Oh. Fuck. 

“Yeah?” Catra breathes, because - even though she hasn’t had anything to drink other than that shot at the bar just now - her brain doesn’t seem to be functioning very well. 

“Yeah,” Adora says, and her face slides cautiously from bashful lip-chewing to earnest, eager grinning. Now that she knows she has Catra’s full attention, she watches Catra’s reaction with obvious interest as she pulls her bra up over her head, tosses it to the blanket, and then pops open the button of her shorts. 

Catra wants nothing, nothing,  _ nothing _ more than just the simple pleasure of holding Adora by the hips and pressing her face to that stomach, breathing in deep of the scent of her and feeling those coarse hairs brushing against her lips. 

Adora pushes her shorts down, exposing strong, solid thigh muscle, and Catra stares openly. 

The sign on the gate when they came in  _ very _ explicitly stated that sexual activity was not allowed on the ‘clothing-free’ beach. 

Catra wonders if the greedy, breathless way Adora looks back at her when their eyes meet again counts as sexual activity. It certainly  _ feels _ like it should. 

And then - oh, fuck her, fuck her to the moon and back - Adora  _ smirks _ at her.

Catra can only watch in a state of rapture as Adora pushes down the boxer briefs she’s wearing and steps out of them like she’s stepping onto - 

Yes, motherfucker, like she’s stepping onto a god damn  _ yacht.  _ What right does she have to look so confident and beautiful and athletic when she’s completely buck naked? Catra’s seen ancient Greek statues that couldn’t compare. 

And then, still smirking, Adora very deliberately and very noticeably rakes her eyes down Catra’s body, taking thoughtful, pleased sips of her like she’s a rare vintage of wine. 

Catra half expects her to open her mouth and say something like  _ simply splendid. _

“Did you bring sunscreen?” Is what Adora says instead.

It sounds a lot more like  _ god, I’d love to be knuckle deep in you right now _ to Catra’s ears, but maybe that’s just wishful thinking. 

“No,” Catra says, “I don’t burn, I just tan.” She can’t touch, not here, not now, but her eyes caress Adora’s neck, her breasts, her hips. Fuck. Who’d have known all that lean, compact muscle was hiding beneath that awful fashion sense? 

“I brought mine if you want some,” Adora says casually. She crouches down to get the tube out of her bag, and Catra gets a good look at the way her back and shoulder muscles flow elegantly to accomplish the simple movement. “Even if you don’t burn, it’s important for reducing the risk of skin cancer, y’know.” 

And oh. Oh, Catra knows just what Adora is offering. 

“I’ll do your back if you’ll do mine?” She says, somehow astonished that she manages to make the words sound smug and self-assured. 

Adora’s answering smile is soft but her eyes, her  _ eyes _ burn with something intense and carefully restrained. 

“It’s a deal,” she says, parrying Catra’s feigned nonchalance with matching cool.

Seems like they’re finally on the same page. 

Catra lies back and lounges on the blanket in the sun as she watches Adora apply sunscreen to her face, her neck, her chest, her stomach, her legs. Adora holds her eyes the entire time; it’s the most exquisite foreplay she’s ever experienced, and nobody’s even touched her yet. 

Okay. This is it. This is officially the best vacation imaginable.

Then Adora hands her the tube and sits down on the blanket, and ah - now Catra gets to  _ touch _ her, and this time she isn’t worrying about making it as quick and as businesslike as possible.

“I can’t believe you thought I was straight,” Adora murmurs in a quiet, laughing tone as Catra presses the first touch of her palms to that glorious back of hers. “I can’t remember the last time I passed for straight - you know, I had a hair dresser tell me once I had enough gay energy to lift an air balloon.”

“I told you,” Catra says with a grin, applying the sunscreen to Adora’s back with significantly more massaging than is really necessary, “I thought Dylan was a guy. Like, since when is that a name people give to girls?”

“For at least, uh, twenty eight years now,” Adora counters. “But seriously, even if you thought I’d been dating a guy - like - I really didn’t think I was being subtle.”

“You still have that sparkly pink nail polish on,” Catra says, sliding her hands slowly down to Adora’s lower back. 

“Yeah, from Bow and Glimmer’s wedding! It’s still on my fingers because I don’t own nail polish remover, because I’m  _ gay.”  _

“I’m gay and I own nail polish remover,” Catra snorts, grinning. “Anyways what was I supposed to think, when I’m meeting you all for the first time and it’s a pair of straight couples and some cute blonde in yoga pants who just broke up with someone named Dylan?”

“Oh my god,” Adora laughs, “Literally nobody in this friend group is straight.”

“Fuck,  _ seriously?  _ I need to get my gaydar taken in for repairs.” 

“Mermista and I dated in college,” Adora recites, “Glimmer and I  _ almost _ dated in highschool but then by the time I decided I was definitely for sure into women, she was in a relationship with Marco Maneli, the most popular guy in our grade, so that never happened. Bow and Sea Hawk literally used to kiss each other like,  _ every  _ time they both drank whiskey. Perfuma - uh - Perfuma is, uh, y’know,  _ obviously _ gay.” 

“Oh, that’s fun,” Catra murmurs, picking up immediately on Adora’s swerve back into bashful territory. “You two’ve slept together once or twice, huh? Makes sense, if hunky sports gay is her type.”

“Are you calling me a hunky sports gay?” Adora retorts smoothly, twisting around to look at Catra. Her eyes are like the sky, like the ocean, like everything about this trip that has been so utterly unpredictable and unexpected and - 

\- and sincerely, earnestly beautiful.

“And what if I am?” Catra says, pushing a bold, purring confidence into the words even as her body is whirring with a rush of heat and temptation and adrenaline. 

“Well then I’d have to - uh - figure out some way to compliment you back. Just as soon as - “ her eyes drop down to Catra’s naked chest. “Just as soon as my brain starts working again, I promise.” 

Catra laughs, pushes the tube of sunscreen into Adora’s hands, and then turns around and lies on the blanket face down. 

“You can thank me by getting my back for me,  _ princess.”  _

The sun-warmed sand has already heated up the blanket, so it feels so good and soft underneath Catra’s splayed form, and the warm air and the soothing sounds of the waves and - yeah, okay, Will was right - the sense of  _ freedom _ from just being naked outdoors makes for such a relaxing combination that she actually closes her eyes and heaves a happy sigh.

And then she feels Adora settle beside her, and a broad, rough hand smooths the first gliding stroke up her spine, and oh - 

_ Oh,  _ this is  _ nice.  _

She melts a little in the steady caress of both the sun’s heat and Adora’s hands. 

“Sorry if I was kind of - uh - grouchy, the first couple days,” she says softly. 

“You always that mean to straight people?” Adora asks, obviously teasing. 

“I was mostly just pissed at Scorpia for not warning me. I thought I’d gotten tricked into what was bound to be the world’s most boring, awkward vacation.” 

Adora snorts. 

“Dunno about you but it certainly hasn’t been  _ boring.”  _

“No,” Catra agrees, smiling with her cheek against the warm beach blanket, “It definitely hasn’t been boring.”

Adora eventually runs out of back to cover in sunscreen and out of excuses to be touching her, and her hands vanish, so Catra rolls back over -

And they just look at each other, two near-strangers, naked, longing, seeing each other like this for the first time and unable to do _ more _ than just look. 

Catra feels like she might drown in the soft, quiet eroticism of Adora propped up on one arm beside her, just a foot of space between them, smiling like - 

Like something might happen, and neither of them are totally sure  _ what,  _ but the air is thick with possibility and promise and wild summer heat. 

Catra sits back and watches shamelessly when Bow and Mermista insist on a trip down to the water and drag Adora with them, and then closes her eyes, intensely aware of the sun on her body like the whispering fingertips of a lover.

She doesn’t open them again until she hears Adora call out her name, and then -

And then there’s a goddess before her, laughing, glistening with ocean water, backlit by the sun in a moment of impossible poetry, one arm raised as if deliberately posed by some brilliant painter. 

Catra’s been trying so damn hard this entire time not to let her eyes linger too long on Adora, not to even  _ acknowledge  _ that she’s attractive, and now that she’s finally  _ allowed _ to, it’s like the full force of her desire is kicking in all at once. 

It feels like the ultimate indulgence, and, hey - 

Catra’s on vacation.

It’s the perfect time to indulge. 

* * *

Square dancing on Wednesday night is, to Catra’s surprise, actually a lot of fun.

She surprises herself with how much muscle memory she still has, hell, even surprises  _ Adora,  _ and together they whirl and laugh and scramble to keep up with the caller. 

It’s a bright and ridiculous contrast to the afternoon of looking and not being able to touch - now Catra’s touching not just Adora but pretty much everybody else in Adora’s friend group, passed gleefully from arm to arm and always, always so happy to come back to her original dance partner. 

Adora’s smile is so bright and earnest and untiring, it’s  _ right _ there on her face every single time Catra finds her again. It isn’t possible to spend any amount of time on the receiving end of that smile without loosening up, smiling back, and actually relaxing enough to enjoy herself.

Obviously Adora’s gorgeous, sure, but - 

But with Adora’s hand in hers, laughter on Adora’s lips as Catra shows off for her with a little extra flourish, it isn’t just Adora’s body she finds herself feeling flustered about. 

* * *

That night, when everybody else goes to the central pool to sit in the hot tub and drink, Catra and Adora walk, hand in hand, down the beach. 

The hand holding is, of course, just to maintain their disguise. Obviously. What kind of couple would they be if they weren’t holding hands while walking down the beach under the stars?

And Catra finds herself… just, talking. 

She tells Adora about her parents’ loveless marriage, about her father’s yelling and her mother’s smothering, impossible expectations. She tells her about jazz club and her first crush on a girl, about meeting Scorpia in detention and getting suspended for trying to get people to sign a petition to start a Gay-Straight Alliance club. She tells her about college, about the straight best friend she crushed on who liked to kiss Catra after exactly three beers if there was a frat boy or two around who might be impressed by it. She talks about her last disastrous relationship with a closeted corporate lawyer, about the long stretch of loneliness in the seven years since.

And Adora just... listens. 

They get back to their suite around three in the morning and change into pajamas, brush their teeth side by side, and then crawl into bed.

“G’night Catra,” Adora whispers. 

“Goodnight, Adora,” Catra whispers back. 

They both lie perfectly still, listening to each other breathe. 

Without saying anything, Catra sends her fingertips questing toward’s Adora’s side of the bed. 

Their hands meet tentatively in the middle, tangle softly together.

As night envelops them like a quiet, hopeful promise, sleep finds them still hand in hand.

  
  
  
  



	5. Thursday

Catra wakes up without a hangover for the first time all week. 

Consciousness sneaks up on her, soft and cloying, and only really pulls her fully out of her quiet dreaming when she hears the rustle of sheets beside her in the bed.

She opens her eyes; Adora is awake, a lazy smile on her face, her hair a wild sunburst across the pillow behind her, arms splayed out above her head. 

“Good morning,” Adora says, and her voice is rough with sleep and her eyes are a calm, even grey and Catra just wants, so, so badly, to kiss her. 

“Morning,” Catra says, keeping her hands to herself despite the warmth spreading from her chest to the rest of her body at the very tempting notion. She’s really not sure where things are between the two of them, and she doesn’t want to push. A yawn overcomes her, and she drapes an arm over her face to cover her mouth, arching her back and stretching into the yawn. When she settles back down against the mattress and opens her eyes, Adora is watching with a soft, almost inquisitive expression. Catra feels a small, sheepish smile play across her own face. “What?”

“Is it okay if I tell you you’re beautiful?” Adora asks, smiling back at her. Flattered, pleased, embarrassed heat squirms inside of Catra at the unexpected compliment. She fights the urge to hide her face in a pillow or, alternately, say something sassy to deflect the earnest words. 

“Yeah,” she says, with a little huff and a scrunch of her nose, “I  _ guess _ that’s okay.” 

Adora grins broadly at her, turning around in the bed to face her, propping her head up on one arm.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” she says, and oh, that bashful heat cranks up inside of Catra’s chest and rushes into her cheeks. 

“Yeah, well, you’re pretty cute when you’re being cocky,” Catra counters. 

“Am I?” Adora purrs. 

“Being cocky? Yes.” Catra smirks. “Cute? Also yes.” Her skin seems to tingle with the rush of giving the compliment as much as receiving one, buzzing with the thrill of this leisurely flirting. To her enormous pleasure, this makes Adora blush. 

There’s a long drawn out moment when they gaze at each other silently, a pregnant pause where Catra wonders if Adora is thinking about kissing her as urgently as she’s thinking the same thing. 

The tension is unbearable, so Catra clears her throat and interrupts it.

“What’s on your schedule for us today, master planner?” 

“Oh, um,” Adora says, shaking herself out of her trance and rolling over to her edge of the bed, reaching for the schedule she has on her bedside table. “Tonight’s the Starlight Ball Evening Affair. I made plans with Perfuma and Scorpia to join them today on a hike through the sanctuary trail today - that should take up most of the afternoon and give us time to get back to the suite and shower before we get dressed for dinner. Assuming you’re down for a hike, I don’t think I told you to bring anything for hiking when we were texting, so that’s my bad, totally no worries if we can’t do the hike - ”

“No, you’re good,” Catra says, cutting her off before she can talk herself out of her afternoon plans. “That actually sounds like a nice change of pace. And I can wear the sneakers I wore to the airport, so that’s not a problem.”

“Okay, cool - I  _ was _ looking forward to getting to spend some time exploring the sanctuary, so - I’m glad you’re down for it. I uh - “ the dusting of pink on her cheeks gets a little darker and she averts her eyes - “I brought a couple bird-watching bingo cards and a pair of binoculars. If you wanna do that. I mean. I know it’s kind of dorky, but - there are some really cool birds endemic to this region, and some migratory ones that are supposed to be passing through here this time of year, and I thought maybe it might be fun to make a little competition out of it, if, uh, you’d be into that.”

Catra rolls her eyes and smiles so hard her face hurts. 

“Sure,” she laughs. 

“Yeah?” Adora asks, so bright and earnest and sweet. 

“Yeah,” Catra says, with an indulgent grin. “How often does a girl get to learn about rare birds from a sexy veterinarian?” This has the intended effect of making Adora blush again, so Catra grins wider and adds: “Who wouldn’t want their own personal Sir David Attenborough but like, young and hot and a lesbian?” 

Adora snorts a laugh, looking distinctly pleased, and pushes one of the bed’s many fluffy pillows aggressively into Catra’s face. 

“Stop,” she squeaks, and even with her vision blocked by the pillow Catra knows she’s smiling. 

* * *

Over breakfast, everybody chats excitedly about the Starlight Ball. Around them they can see employees preparing the restaurant patio and a section of the beach for the event, decorating the former and converting the latter into a makeshift dance floor. 

“I can’t believe the dress code stipulates a dinner jacket and closed-toe shoes in this heat,” Bow sighs. Catra hasn’t seen him wear any shirts that weren’t crop-tops this entire week, so she can only imagine how suffocating he finds normal clothing, let alone multiple layers of them.

Yeah, okay, she can kind of see how she should have figured out that nobody in this group is straight. 

“Adora, did you ever decide if you were gonna wear a dress or a suit?” Glimmer asks. “I feel like you spent a solid month stressing about how you couldn’t pick one and never actually told me which one you ended up going with.” 

“As someone who isn’t a fan of sweat stains,” Mermista contributes, “personally the dress seems like a more sensible option.” 

“It  _ seems _ like a more sensible option,” Adora agrees, shovelling fresh fruit into her mouth with what Catra has deduced is her standard level of enthusiasm for breakfast, “But my, uh... relationship with _ femininity _ has always been a little _ weird _ and the fact that the dress made more sense logistically actually made me  _ not _ want to go that route, y’know?”

“I unfortunately do  _ not _ know,” Mermista says, taking another swig of her black coffee. Catra is a little smug to see everybody except her and Adora seems pretty hungover today. “Not wanting to do something specifically because it makes more sense is a completely foreign concept to me.” 

“No, I get what you mean,” Catra pipes up in Adora’s defense, “It’s like, you feel backed into it, like the situation is trying to force your hand and decide  _ for _ you, and that makes you not want to take it just because it’s the easy route.”

_ “Exactly,”  _ Adora declares triumphantly, flashing Catra a grateful smile. “See, Catra knows what I’m talking about.” 

Under the table, their knees brush. It seems accidental, but it still makes Catra’s breath catch a little.

After breakfast, when Catra asks what they’re going to be doing until the hike, Adora actually  _ suggests _ going down to the beach and lazing in the sun for a while. 

Catra’s pleasantly surprised by this, but she’s not about to look a gift horse doctor in the mouth, so she readily agrees and heads back to the suite to grab her beach blanket and a paperback. 

She shouldn’t have bothered bringing the book; the two of them chat and joke the entire walk down and don’t stop until Adora’s phone chimes at them an hour and a half later, letting them know it’s time to meet up with Scorpia and Perfuma. 

* * *

“I was thinking about it the entire time I was in the shower,” Catra says, as she emerges from the bathroom, wearing clean underwear and towelling her hair off, “And I maintain that it’s cheating at bird bingo to distract me when I’m trying to see something with your tiny little travel binoculars - “ 

Adora turns around to face her, and the words die in her throat. 

“Fuck,” Catra mutters, running her eyes up and down Adora’s outfit. “I just came up with another good reason for you not to have worn the dress.”

“Yeah?” Adora asks, tugging nervously at the cuffs of her sleeves. “What’s that?”

“You look  _ great _ in a suit.” 

And she  _ does.  _

The black suit jacket accentuates the strong line of her shoulders, the shiny black lapels draw attention to her neck and jaw. She’s unbuttoned the first couple buttons of her cobalt blue dress shirt and she’s wearing a pendant of a steel sword hanging from a simple leather band that points the eyes down past the striking lines of her collar bones only to be denied access by the top of the shirt. 

Those buttons are just  _ begging _ to be slipped open through that silky looking fabric. 

“Thanks,” Adora says nervously, and then flicks her eyes down at Catra. “You look pretty great in just your underwear,” she counters playfully. Catra laughs and strikes a pose. 

“Thanks. You really know how to make a girl feel special.” She winks, and Adora splutters. “Bathroom’s all yours if you need it.”

“Cool, I uh - need to figure out what to do with my hair,” she mumbles, and then slips past Catra and vanishes into the bathroom. 

“Hey Adora,” Catra calls to her through the thin wall, crossing to the wardrobe to pull out the pieces of her own suit.

“Yeah?” Adora answers from the bathroom.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

There’s a choking sound, and then,

“I can’t believe you’d use my own words against me.”

“I’m dastardly like that,” Catra says, shrugging into the rich burgundy dress shirt she dug out for this occasion, grinning. 

* * *

“Oh my god,” Glimmer gasps excitedly, when the group of them assembles in the little courtyard that the suites ring, “You’re  _ red and blue lesbians.  _ Did you two coordinate ahead of time??” 

“I have no idea what that means,” Adora laughs, “But no, we didn’t plan it.”

“I would definitely have planned ahead to match outfits with my fake girlfriend, just saying,” Glimmer says, and all the color drains from Adora’s face as she whips her head around to see if anybody heard that remark, making a frantic cutting motion with her finger across her neck at Glimmer. “Oh, fuck, sorry! I mean. Haha. Inside joke?” There are a few other couples out and about, most dressed up and walking towards the restaurant patio for dinner, but none of them seem to be paying attention. 

Catra slips her hand into Adora’s, gives her a reassuring squeeze. 

“Hey,” she whispers, leaning in, “It’ll be fine. Nobody was listening, and they’ll all see us dancing together. Besides… I’m sure half the resort remembers the way you were looking at me at karaoke night.” 

That makes some of the tension in Adora’s shoulders release, makes the freaked out expression on her face ease off into a slightly strained smile.

“I think you mean the way  _ you _ were looking at  _ me,”  _ Adora counters. “I may have been drunk as hell but you were  _ definitely _ enjoying the show, if I remember correctly.” 

“That’s a pretty big  _ if,  _ princess,” Catra teases, and she’s happy to see Adora relax and smile again as their group starts to head towards the patio. They walk hand in hand, and honestly? It’s become such a familiar, comforting thing to do with Adora that Catra hardly thinks about it anymore.

(They certainly didn’t need to be holding hands while on a hike in the middle of a jungle with nobody around but Scorpia and Perfuma to see, and yet somehow it kept happening.)

The restaurant patio has been transformed, courtesy of white tablecloths and flickering candles and streams of fairy lights winding along the wooden slats of the pergola that provides a bit of shade during the heat of the day. 

Catra recognizes the cellist and violinist from the jazz quartet they got to see perform on Tuesday afternoon off in a discreet corner, providing a subtle background track of string covers of popular love songs. She listens for a moment and chuckles quietly to herself when she recognizes what is undoubtedly a classical reinterpretation of Wonderwall. 

They’re all escorted to their seats by Will, who meets them at the entrance to the patio dressed impeccably from head to toe in a three piece suit and doesn’t seem even slightly bothered by the lingering heat of the day. 

Adora - fucking dork - actually pulls out and holds Catra’s seat for her. 

“Thanks, princess,” she says, pouring as much growling flirtation into it as she can, daring a touch to Adora’s forearm where she knows hard muscle lies hidden beneath her sleeves. 

“My pleasure, sweetheart,” Adora returns, with matching playfulness and a distinct smirk. 

The food has been good all week - exceptional, if Catra is being honest - but tonight blows it out of the water. It’s a seven course meal (yes,  _ seven)  _ that starts with gazpacho that is delicious and refreshing, despite Adora’s baffled mumblings of  _ who’s ever heard of cold soup,  _ and ends with a black pepper ice cream that is so unexpectedly good Catra finds herself wondering if she should invest in an ice cream maker just so that she can try to recreate it for herself. 

The small, staggered courses actually force Adora to eat more slowly, meaning she isn’t finished a solid fifteen minutes before everybody else is like at every meal they’ve shared this week, and frankly it’s fun watching her react to the wide array of food she’s never tried before. By the time they finish the dessert course, night has fallen and the stars are out. This far from any major cities, there isn’t much light pollution, and so the sky unfurls the beauty of its mysteries to their eyes with joyous, infinite abandon. 

Adora slides her hand across the table as Bow enthusiastically tells a story about the first time he went kayaking - Catra takes that offered hand, twining their fingers together, and allows herself to just…  _ be.  _ To just exist in this moment, to enjoy the simple reckless pleasure of holding hands with someone she thinks is attractive, and interesting, and kind, to allow herself a moment without cynicism in which she can enjoy something as mundane as starlight and the flicker of a candle and the background music of a violin sweetly crooning - is that? yes, it is - an especially slow, tender rendition of Besame Mucho.

Catra’s always told herself that she hates romantic clichés, but then, when has she ever been in a situation where somebody  _ wanted _ to be seen holding her hand during a candlelit dinner? 

“You look like you’re thinking about something,” Adora whispers in her ear, when Bow is done telling the story. 

Catra smiles, summons the bravery to explore the rough, handsome mountain range of Adora’s knuckles with the tip of her thumb. 

“I’m just sort of… realizing that I’m actually having a really nice time,” she confesses, embarrassed by how vulnerable this unremarkable honesty feels.

“Good,” Adora says, and looks at her, and  _ smiles.  _

Catra’s not sure she’s ever really been worthy of a smile like that.

But maybe it’s not too late to  _ want _ to be worthy. 

* * *

Maybe it’s silly to think that a  _ ball _ should entail more than a wooden riser on a sandy stretch of beach and a DJ blasting a slew of 80s love songs through a set of clearly-temporary speakers, but Catra  _ does _ feel a little goofy as she and Adora arrive at the dance floor and the song playing is one targeted more at her  _ parents _ than at her. 

Still, there’s a sort of magic in the way that Adora smiles at her, an unimaginable antiseptic that immunizes her against embarrassment and gives her permission to laugh and dance to even the most asinine of old pop songs. They wiggle eyebrows at each other with deliberately foolish melodrama to the steady slamming of synthetic keyboard riffs, bounce their shoulders in tune to laughably predictable guitar solos, spin in perfect time to boring old verses and still manage to boil over with bubbling giggles as they do it. 

And all the while, Adora looks like some sort of hero out of ancient myth, some disco-savvy Hercules in black and blue with her hair pluming wildly behind her. Catra can’t imagine ever letting go of her, can’t imagine taking her eyes off of her for even in an instant. 

Inevitably, the songs go soft and sultry and romantic, and their antics are ended in favor of something slower and sweeter. Adora pauses, smiles, offers Catra her hand - giving her the option to decline these more intimate dances. 

Of course she takes Adora’s hand. 

They come together, Catra’s arms looped around Adora’s neck and Adora’s arms around her waist, and spin slowly on the dance floor. As they rotate, Catra takes in the sight of the  _ real _ couples that surround them. Mermista is grinning to herself and rolling her eyes as Sea Hawk mouths the (extremely sappy) words to the song. Scorpia and Perfuma are in a world of their own, swaying slightly off beat and entangled in each other, both with their eyes blissfully closed. The newlyweds Bow and Glimmer, disgustingly, are staring long and meaningfully into each others’ eyes, Bow’s fingers threaded through Glimmer’s hair, Glimmer’s hand resting gently on his jawline. 

It’s - it’s stupid to feel kind of jealous, right?

But Catra can’t think of another word for the way she feels, looking at them, knowing that what she has here in this moment with Adora is temporary at best and fraudulent at worst. 

And that’s when she knows, really  _ knows,  _ that she’s falling hard for this woman she’s known for exactly five whole days. 

It’s a terrible idea, but Catra pulls Adora closer, presses their faces together, breathes deep of the scent of her like imprinting the smell of Adora’s deodorant into her memory will make this moment last beyond the confines of this extremely strange, extremely unexpected vacation. 

The song changes to yet another sickly sweet tune that seems, to Catra, indistinguishable from the next. 

But not to Adora.

Adora stiffens in her arms at the opening notes.

They turn a few slow rotations before Catra feels something wet against her cheek.

She pulls back.

“Hey, are you - ?” Catra manages to get out, and then she sees the tears streaking down Adora’s face, the tightness of her jaw, and she makes the executive decision to get them off of the dance floor. “Let’s take a breather,” she says, taking Adora’s hand and leading her off to the side.

They find their way to a short retaining wall where a few people are sitting, resting their feet or taking a smoke break far enough from the dancing to be polite. 

“Sorry,” Adora says, wiping her face. “I wasn’t - I didn’t think it would hit me so hard.”

“Hey, you’re all good,” Catra murmurs, standing a few feet away awkwardly, hands in her pockets. “Thinking about the ex?”

“Yeah,” Adora confesses. “That - that used to be our song. It’s not even that I  _ miss _ her, you know? I just… I guess I miss the, uh - the certainty she represented? I think I… I think I managed to convince myself for a little while that she’d be it for me, you know? That I was happy enough to settle down. So even if I don’t miss  _ her,  _ I guess I… miss feeling like I knew what my future was supposed to hold, you know?”

Catra doesn’t know. She’s never felt certain of her future even once in her entire life. 

But she sits down on the retaining wall next to Adora, and tentatively rubs her back. 

“That really sucks,” she says, and sincerely means it. “I’m sorry.”

Adora snuffles, loudly and obnoxiously. 

Then she turns to Catra, eyes red, brows furrowed. 

“I really like you,” she says, which is a total non-sequitur, as far as Catra is concerned, and then, “I don’t want tomorrow to be the last day I get to be your girlfriend.” 

Catra’s heart leaps, roars, flutters,  _ riots _ inside of her chest. 

“I don’t - I don’t want that either,” she confesses. 

Adora takes her hand.

There are people around them, people who could, theoretically, be listening in. 

But Adora doesn’t seem to care.

“Catra,” she says, devastatingly handsome and shockingly vulnerable all in one word, “Will you let me take you on a date when we’re back home after this trip? A real one?” 

“Yeah,” Catra says, almost laughing at the intensity of the question, squeezing Adora’s hand. “As long as you don’t take me to a fucking horse barn.”

Adora  _ laughs.  _

“Second date?” She asks. Catra laughs right back at her.

“I’m sorry, are you not only assuming that there  _ will  _ be a second date, but asking my permission to take me to a  _ horse barn _ for it?” 

“Yes,” Adora says, with a breathy grin, “And yes.” 

“Cocky bastard,” Catra mutters, grinning in reply. “Fine, I guess. But I get to pick where we go and what we do for the third date.”

“Deal,” Adora says quickly. Her head turns up towards the dance floor as the song changes. “Hey - dance with me?” 

“I’ve  _ been _ dancing with you,” Catra protests, with a snort and then a smile. “But sure. Come on, princess.” 

* * *

They hold hands as usual on the way back to the suite. 

Conversation is light and easy as they peel themselves out of their suits, hang their jackets, make noises of relief as they pull their shirts off their sweaty skin. 

Pajamas.

Brush teeth.

Into bed.

And then - 

And then they lie in thick, taut silence.

Like the night before, Catra slowly, slowly creeps her hand out towards Adora, bridging the gap between them.

She can hear Adora breathing into the darkness as her fingers find an elbow under the covers. She grazes, strokes, touches feather-light, keeping her idle patterns to Adora’s arm.

And then she feels Adora’s arm move towards her, and -

Fingertips whisper against the edge of her thigh, gentle and exploratory and barely-there.

Adora’s touch dances lightly up and down from her knee to her hip, never asking for more, never daring to venture further.

Catra’s still breathing hard in spite of that restraint. 

She tries to encourage the motions with more secretive touches up and down Adora’s bicep, and, _ oh -  _

Adora’s palm slides around to the top of Catra’s thigh instead of the side of it, stroking  _ up _ and  _ down _ and  _ up  _ and  _ down.  _

Catra’s heart starts thumping  _ hard _ inside her chest.

She decides to be bold, decides to ghost her fingers up Adora’s bicep to her shoulder, touching hungrily and curiously at the smooth, rounded muscle there before drifting up to Adora’s neck.

She can  _ hear _ Adora breathing more heavily in the bed next to her. 

That hand on her thigh keeps stroking up and down, innocent, sweet. 

It feels so good, so intoxicating, that Catra’s starting to get a little dizzy.

She swallows, rallies her courage. 

“Hey,” she finally manages to make herself say, soft and smiling. 

“Hey,” Adora says back, and despite the darkness, it’s clear Adora’s smiling too. 

Catra rolls over to face Adora; Adora retracts her hand at the movement, but in a way that suggests she’s being polite, not that she’s changed her mind. There’s just enough moonlight spilling through the curtains that Catra can see Adora watching attentively as she props herself up and regards her. 

“Can I kiss you?” Catra asks, filled to the brim with this gentle, sincere yearning and unable to keep it from overflowing for even a second longer. 

Adora huffs a laugh, grins up at her.

“Oh,  _ now  _ you want to kiss me,” she says smugly. 

“Yeah,” Catra purrs, confident and happy and excited, but still waiting for permission.  _ “Now _ I want to kiss you, dummy.” 

Adora sucks in a breath at that, suddenly wearing a shy, eager little smile. 

“I’d like that,” she says.

So Catra slips over to Adora’s side of the bed and climbs on top of her, carefully brushes a strand of hair out of her moonlit face, and kisses her. She feels Adora’s hands come up to settle on her waist, feels Adora lean up eagerly into the kiss -

_ I think I could love you,  _ Catra catches herself thinking, for  _ just _ an instant, as their lips finally meet and Adora’s rough fingers start to push up her shirt and her own fingers touch suggestively along the waistline of Adora’s sleep shorts. 

Their hips rock together in sync.

Catra finds one of her thighs between Adora’s. 

And then there are hands in her hair, and then the kisses slip from leisurely to heated.

Catra has been enjoying the flirting, but she hadn’t actually let herself want  _ this. _

Hasn’t let herself  _ want _ in a very, very long time.

And oh -

Oh, it feels  _ good,  _ to give in to wanting.

Feels even  _ better, _ to be wanted in return. 


	6. Friday

Catra wakes up to the sound of Adora’s horrible morning alarm. 

Beside her, Adora groans and quickly reaches for her phone.

“Sorry,” she mutters, scrambling to shut it off. 

“That alarm is fucking awful,” Catra murmurs, shuffling over towards Adora and draping an arm across her beautiful, naked torso. 

“I’m a heavy sleeper!”

“So you’ve told me. I still haven’t decided if that means I should forgive you for it though.” She smiles despite the grouchy words, pressing her face into the soft warmth of a rosy, freckled shoulder. Adora hums a little noise of pleasure, and then her hand is in Catra’s hair, gliding through the long, fluffy top before curling at the back of her head and rubbing her fingertips against the short buzzed hair there. It feels so damn good that Catra closes her eyes and considers allowing herself to fall back asleep to that touch. 

“Maybe there’s some way I can make it up to you,” Adora says, in a low, promising voice. The hand that isn’t in Catra’s hair suddenly makes an appearance at Catra’s hip, gripping gently. 

Catra’s breath catches. 

“I think,” she says, sliding her eyes back open, a smirk pulling at her lips, “You definitely owe me _some_ sort of apology for waking me up so early.”

Adora’s face is alight with mischief and desire. 

“I might just have an idea or two of ways I could apologize,” she purrs.

And then the phone rings.

Not _Adora’s_ phone - and, weirdly, not Catra’s phone, either.

It’s their suite’s landline, which has been completely silent so far the entire week. 

Fear jolts through Catra, ripping her to full alertness more effectively than any alarm or innuendo. 

Adora goes rigid below her, expression suddenly full of panic. 

“Do you want me to get it?” Catra offers. 

“No, I’ll get it, I’m closer.” Adora sits up and picks the wailing phone up out of its base as Catra reluctantly releases her. “Hello?” A pause. “Yes, speaking.” A longer pause. Catra watches Adora’s face for clues; she doesn’t look happy. “It was a mistake with the - yeah, no, it was my bad, I explained it at the front desk when we checked in - the autocomplete on the form it - “ Another pause. “Yeah, sure. That’s no problem at all. Okay.” 

She hangs up the phone, and then heaves a sigh. 

“They want us both to swing by the front office before we get breakfast. They have some questions about the information on the booking.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Really, Catra thinks as she sees the ashen look on Adora’s face as they meet back up again in the lobby after the interrogation, the resort management was smart to separate them for questioning. 

Together, they might have stood a chance at improvising on their feet and maybe throwing in some shows of physical affection to sell the _'oh, those people must have misheard the conversation on the beach last night’_ story. 

“Sorry,” Adora says, confirming what Catra suspects that expression means. “I hate lying - I’m _bad_ at it and - and it makes me _feel_ shitty and - and they know everything.” She looks like she’s on the verge of crying, or like maybe she’s _been_ crying and just managed to get it under control. 

“So what now?” Catra asks. A security guard appears in the corner of her vision and it makes her feel small, and humiliated, and angry.

“They want us to pack up and leave. Immediately.”

They never do end up getting breakfast. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


The taxi drops them off on a narrow residential street, leaving them standing outside a decaying apartment with drying laundry hanging above their heads and their luggage at their feet. 

“This is the place, right?” Adora says, frowning with concern and looking around. A shrieking child darts from one apartment building to the next and then vanishes inside. 

“I sure as hell hope so,” Catra mutters, squinting at her phone and reading the confirmation email for the third time. “We’re supposed to go around to the back down a side alley, and there’s a lockbox on the fence in the courtyard with a key for the front. Do you want to wait here with the stuff while I do that?”

Adora’s frown is _deeply_ exacerbated by this suggestion. 

Guilt twists Catra’s stomach. 

“Sorry,” she says, “This was the best thing I could find on such short notice.”

“You really didn’t have to cover it. I can pay you back for my half of the room.”

“Don’t say that until you see it,” she warns, injecting a little awkward attempt at playfulness into the situation. “I’ll be right back. I’ll yell if I’m getting mugged, okay?”

“That’s super not reassuring,” Adora huffs. 

Clutching her phone, Catra follows the instructions and goes down the unpaved dirt alleyway between the buildings to find a tiny crumbling courtyard and a wrought iron fence with a code-activated lockbox. She pops in the code from the email and takes the pair of keys from inside. 

“See, didn’t get even a little bit stabbed,” she teases Adora, returning with the keys. 

They open the front door and step into a cramped front entry with beautiful but cracked tile, haul their bags up three flights of stairs, and then finally arrive at the door with the right number. 

The key sticks for one terrifying moment and then the door pops open. 

“Oh,” Catra says, stepping inside, looking around. “It’s… uh…”

“Tiny,” Adora blurts, sounding more surprised than dismayed. “Cute!” She adds, with an embarrassed squeak, trying to cover for her initial reaction. 

“Sorry,” Catra sighs. “I know this isn’t exactly how you planned on spending your last day of vacation.” She squeezes through a kitchenette the size of their bathroom back at the resort, takes a quick peek into the bathroom which is the size of their _shower_ at the resort, and then finds herself in the bedroom. 

There is, of course, only one bed.

“It’s - it’s fine! Really, I’m - I don’t mean to sound ungrateful,” Adora says, shifting from one foot to the other. “My anxiety really fucks with me when my plans get derailed. I’m not - I’m not really good at improvising.”

Catra drops her bag on the little bed, then turns and offers Adora her hand. 

They twine their fingers together, flustered and nervous but, at least, not dealing with this alone. 

“Hey,” Catra says softly, pulling Adora closer and giving her hand a little squeeze, “It’ll be fine. I’ve got the car already booked to pick us up tomorrow to get us to the airport. I set my phone alarm to make sure we don’t miss it. I texted the address of this place to Scorpia and gave Sparkles my phone number in case she needs it. _I_ don’t mind improvising. I’m _good_ at improvising. You don’t need to solve anything. Let me take the wheel on figuring this out, alright?”

Adora sighs and nods, then takes a step forward and tentatively enfolds Catra in a hug. 

“This sucks,” she mumbles. 

“Yeah. Silver lining is that we can stop pretending we’ve been in a relationship for a year already.” 

The phrasing, Catra realizes, comes out a little wrong, because Adora tenses. 

“Yeah, uh, I guess so,” she says, pulling out of the hug a little too quickly. 

“No, you beautiful moron,” Catra sighs, grabbing her by the front of her shirt - too sombre of a day to wear another aloha shirt today, thank fuck - and pulling her back in, tilting her face close to catch her darting, embarassed eyes. “I’m not saying I’m glad I don’t have to pretend to be your girlfriend anymore. I’m saying I’m glad I finally get _you,_ just you, and not the you that’s constantly worrying about giving outsiders the right impression about what we are to each other.”

“Oh,” Adora says, and the way she heaves a sigh of relief is so damn endearing Catra reaches up to hold her jaw and kiss her right there. This earns a _second_ sigh, a hot and happy exhalation that brushes against Catra’s cheek as they kiss. 

Adora’s hands find her hips, and then the two of them are moving as Adora slowly backs them up to the little bed and its riotously colorful bedspread. 

Catra’s mind is a dizzy blur of trying to make sure she hasn’t forgotten anything she needs to take care of between now and tomorrow afternoon’s flight, her senses taking in this new, foreign environment, and the deeply distracting experience of having Adora kiss her slowly and luxuriously.

She’s decided maybe she is, in fact, safe to not think about anything for the rest of the day except kissing Adora when a loud growl interrupts them. 

“Oh my god,” Catra laughs, nearly right into Adora’s mouth, “was that your _stomach?”_

“Maybe,” Adora hedges, leaning in to resume kissing. Her kisses travel from Catra’s lips to her jaw, trailing down her neck, and she’s just pushing Catra gently back into the bed when her stomach gurgles again. 

With a giggle, Catra pushes her away. 

“No wonder you’re feeling antsy. We should probably find some food.” 

“Yeah… your phone has data, right? Do you want to see if… there’s like a restaurant or something around here within walking distance?” She sounds unconvinced that this area of town has anything even remotely restaurant-shaped.

“I have a better idea,” Catra says, leaning in and indulging in a quick little kiss to Adora’s chin as she wiggles past and jumps to her feet. “We passed what looked like a street market on the drive here, and this place is small but it at least has a kitchen. I’m gonna see what kind of cookware we’ve got and then we should go try to find that market.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


“How do you feel about seafood?” Catra asks, leaning in to study the selection of fresh caught fish on offer. 

“I have a mild allergy to shellfish,” Adora says, “But other than that I’m neutral.” 

“I noticed you never went for the fish option even though we’re literally on the ocean, which is basically a sin as far as I’m concerned,” Catra chuckles, pointing out a promising looking specimen to the vendor, paying him in cash. “How right is my instinct that you were raised in a meat-and-potatoes kind of household?”

“Completely right,” Adora says, with a grin. She eyes Catra’s selection as the man bags it and hands it over to them. “What kind of fish is that? Salmon?”

Catra _laughs._

“Not even close. This is a mackerel. Come on, let’s head back over to the produce now that I know what kind of fish I’m cooking with. We need some lemon for sure, but I haven’t decided what else I’m doing. Gonna let the ingredients speak to me.” 

“I had no idea my fake girlfriend could cook,” Adora says, with a grin. “How did you learn this stuff?”

“My mom had me doing all the cooking for me and my kid siblings by the time I was twelve. She fucking hated cooking but my dad said it was a woman’s job so he wouldn’t so much as touch a spatula to flip a burning pancake. And then when I moved to California for art school I worked at a seafood restaurant part time to pay the bills.”

“Damn,” Adora mutters, “that’s cool as hell. I mean, obviously not the part where your parents were using you for free labor and also your dad being a sexist shithead.”

Catra grins, pleased that Adora thinks something she considers a deeply mundane aspect of her existence is _cool as hell._

“See, this is what I mean,” she says, pausing at a stall to consider some vegetables that might pair well with the fish. There are a decent number of things in the market she doesn’t recognize, which just kind of excites her and makes her want to buy one of everything and taste it all. “We were so busy pretending we already knew each other that we didn’t actually get to know each other. Tell me something about yourself. Something I don’t know, something I can’t just guess.” 

Adora makes a thoughtful noise, crunches on a plantain chip from the bag that Catra bought her to silence the worst of her stomach’s groanings while they shop, and then says: 

“I was raised by my grandma since I was a baby, because my mom got pregnant with me but couldn’t really raise a kid and go to college at the same time, so my grandma basically adopted me. I thought for years that my grandma was my mom and my mom was like, my older sister or my cousin or something. They had to explain it to me when I was seven and got into a fight with another kid on the playground about whether or not the woman who picked me up from school every day was my mom or my grandma, because they said she was too old to be a mom and I thought that was like, an insult to her honor or something?” 

Catra snorts a laugh, picking up a bundle of fresh herbs and breathing a deep whiff of them before paying the stall owner. She’s starting to get excited for making lunch. It feels like it’s been a lifetime since she actually made the effort to cook something to try to impress someone, and it’s always kind of thrilling to have fresh ingredients at your fingertips. 

“Oh, that’s something you probably wouldn’t have guessed,” Adora says wryly. “I used to get into a _lot_ of fights when I was a kid. I was just like… really angry all the time, for some reason, really frustrated. We figured out when I was a teenager that it’s connected to my anxiety, so uh - I’ve had it managed for a while now. But all that fighting when I was little is actually how I first got introduced to horses. My school counsellor suggested a couple different like… summer camps for troubled kids?”

“Uh huh,” Catra says, indicating that she’s listening even as she’s carefully deciding which bundle of radishes she wants to buy.

“Anyways my grandma let me choose which of the camps I wanted to sign up for, and I picked the horse camp because the other ones sounded boring. I know it’s kind of a cliché, but that camp kind of changed my life. I used to tell people a horse named Swift Wind saved me - I had to be patient with him, no matter how frustrated I got, so I learned to cope with the anger a little better and I fell in love with horses in the process.” 

Catra straightens up, flashes her a grin. 

“I don’t think that’s cliché, I think that’s great.” She pushes down the reflex to remark that she’d have killed to have a parent who actually wanted to help her with her mental health issues instead of actively making them worse. “It sounds like all those horses at the ranch where you work are in really good hands.”

Adora smiles and blushes. 

“You’re not just teasing me, are you?” 

“No,” Catra says, grinning wider. “I mean it. I’m glad you’re doing something that… y’know, means something to you. I can tell it matters to you from the way you talk about it.” 

Adora’s smile feels like the glow of the sun, and if they weren’t in the middle of a crowded, busy market Catra would be tempted to stand there and bask in its warmth for hours. It’s sort of a novel experience, to be around somebody whose baseline seems to be _happy._ It’s… nice.

(People who don’t know Scorpia all that well might make the mistake of thinking that her baseline is happy, but that’s incorrect - her baseline is _chipper,_ which is a different thing entirely.)

She pays for the radishes; somewhere between the vegetable stall and the fruit stall, Adora quietly tangles the fingers of their free hands together. 

* * *

“Is this safe?” Adora laughs nervously, stepping out onto the tiny little wrought iron balcony of their rented room. It does, admittedly, seem a little rickety to Catra, but - 

“Eh, it’s probably fine as long as we aren’t doing any jumping jacks,” she says, lowering herself into the little plastic patio chair and putting her plate down on the equally tiny table. Adora’s knees touch hers as she does the same. 

The balcony looks out on the courtyard where the lockbox with the keys was; from here they can see other balconies all looking in, decorated with drying laundry and kids’ toys and miniature gardens and the occasional lazy, unimpressed looking cat. The courtyard itself seems much prettier from up here, the weathered flagstone forming a beaten-up mosaic of a stylized ocean wave that lends a tired kind of charm to the surrounding clutter of bicycles and wooden pallets. 

“This smells so good,” Adora says, drawing Catra’s attention back to their meal. “Thank you for cooking, and for paying for all the ingredients.” 

“My pleasure,” Catra says, with total sincerity. “Saved us from trying to find our way to a restaurant.” 

Adora cracks open a beer - using her bare hand to do it, that showoff - and hands it to Catra, then opens the second one for herself. 

They’d had to venture into a slightly sketchy convenience store to find drinks, but cheap, shitty beer - thankfully - is a universal constant. 

“Cheers,” she says, tilting the neck of the bottle towards Catra.

“Cheers,” Catra answers, clinking her beer against Adora’s. 

* * *

“Alright,” Catra laughs, “Your turn.” 

The balcony is so small that they both have their backs pressed into the railings just to be able to sit across from each other with their feet in each other’s laps, sipping cheap beer number three in between idly rubbing each others’ ankles and arches. 

It’s been a lazy late afternoon - with no pressing urgency to get her money’s worth out of the resort, Adora finally seems content to spend her time in the sun doing very little of anything.

“Okay, uh… cello! What made you get into cello?” 

“My mom,” Catra answers, scrunching her nose sourly. “She really wanted me to follow in her footsteps and become a classical musician. She gave up her career when she married my dad.” Catra’s never quite been able to decide who her mom hates more for that, her dad or herself. “She was real fucking pissed when she finally found out I’d quit my shitty highschool’s shitty concert band and joined the jazz club instead.” She can’t help the smug grin that appears on her face as she says it - honestly, pulling that one over on the old bitch for two whole years was one of Catra’s greatest victories. 

“That’s cool that you found a way to enjoy it that wasn’t connected to your mom,” Adora offers, digging her thumbs into Catra’s calves, running them along the muscle. The sensation is pleasant, casual, grounding. Catra takes another sip of beer, closes her eyes for a moment. 

“I mean, half of the fun of it was that I knew she _hated_ jazz.” 

Adora laughs at this, which is good. Laughter means she’s not pitying Catra. 

“Fair enough,” She says, taking a sip of her own beer. “Your turn.”

Catra runs through possible questions in her mind. What would she have been, if not a vet? How did she figure out she was gay? What’s _her_ mom up to these days, and are they close? 

Instead, what comes out of her mouth is:

“...do you hear music?” 

Adora frowns, then tilts her head, listening. 

“Yeah, I do. I wonder where that’s coming from.”

It wafts through the air as naturally as a gentle breeze, like the city serenading the setting sun. It doesn’t sound like someone’s got a radio on in a nearby apartment. It sounds like live music. Street music. 

Catra smiles, suddenly tingling with the promise of adventure. 

“You wanna go find out?” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


When they finally tumble back into the apartment, giggling and shushing each other, it’s very late and they’re more giddy from exhaustion than drunkenness. 

“I’m still thinking about those kebabs,” Adora groans wistfully as Catra takes her hand and pulls her into the bedroom. 

“Are you _still_ hungry? You ate like twelve of those things.”

“No, I’m full, they were just so _good.”_

“I can think of something better than kebabs,” Catra purrs, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Adora raises an eyebrow, smirks. 

“Oh yeah?” Moonlight catches in her eyes, turning them to quicksilver, and Catra finds herself wishing they could stay here forever and never go back to reality. 

“Yeah,” Catra says, and pulls her shirt up over her head, tosses it off to the side, and then unhooks her bra.

Adora’s throat works visibly as she swallows hard. 

“Yeah,” she growls, crowding up against Catra, pressing their bodies together. “Way fucking better than kebabs.” Bliss dances through Catra’s body as Adora gently plucks the bra away from her body, pulls it free of her arms and then unceremoniously drops it to the floor. 

Adora kisses her then, strong and sure and soft, levering them both back into the bed. Instead of the crisp, soapy smell of the resort’s bedsheets, this bed has the aroma of a guest room in somebody’s house, lived in and used, clean but complex, rich with its lifetime spent in a populated neighbourhood. Catra’s distracted by it for all of one heartbeat before the heat of Adora on top of her pulls her mind firmly back to what’s important.

Catra traces her palms up Adora’s body as they kiss, offering adulation to the muscle of her core and then drifting to grasp and rub greedily at her breasts through layers of shirt and bra. Adora makes a hungry noise against her mouth, and then Catra feels her press a thigh hard against her, grinding their hips together. She gasps, and Adora pulls away to smirk down at her. 

“I can’t believe you ever thought I was straight,” she says, and then punctuates that amused remark by lowering her head and capturing one of Catra’s nipples in her mouth. Catra inhales sharply and arches up into the sensation, moving her hands to Adora’s shoulders to encourage her to keep that up. 

“I am so fucking glad I was wrong,” she says, through a haggard, breathy laugh.

Adora chuckles in reply; the vibration of it sings through Catra in a fresh, teasing buzz of pleasure. She’s only a little dismayed when the heat of Adora’s mouth leaves her chest, but - 

Well, since she’s doing it so that she can sit up and pull her shirt and bra up over her head, Catra supposes she can find a way to forgive her for it. 

Catra stares openly, letting her eyes lap at the bared torso of the woman straddling her waist. 

“So, _so_ fucking glad,” she reiterates. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?” 

Adora blushes. It’s so fucking precious that Catra kind of wants to flip her over and _thoroughly_ ravish her. 

But this is their last night together; she doesn't want to rush. She wants to appreciate every moment. 

“I uh - heh. That’s really nice to hear?” Adora says, suddenly bashful. “After that night when I tried to kiss you, I thought - I mean, I guess I just figured I wasn’t your type.”

Catra presses her thumbs up the center of Adora’s stomach, reverently smoothing that trail of wiry hair spilling between her navel and the top of her shorts. 

“You are… _definitely_ my type,” she whispers, watching the progress of her own thumbs before turning that lusty gaze up to Adora’s face. “Hot, capable, driven, smart, _and_ an adorable dork?” No, Catra’s pretty sure she’ll never get tired of making Adora blush. “I could go on for hours if I didn’t have other things I’d much rather be using my mouth for.” 

Adora’s sweet, sheepish smile pulls into a heated grin, and, well - that’s another thing Catra’s discovering she really likes about Adora, the way she flips back and forth between smug, sexy confidence and flustered squirming. 

“Oh yeah?” Adora whispers, voice full of promise and desire. 

“Yeah,” Catra says, leaning back into the pillow regally. “You’ve gotten to show off _plenty_ already, miss I-can-carry-you-to-the-nurse-station-like-it’s-no-big-deal.” She smiles, lowers her eyelids, and makes her tone dark and soft. “Take those shorts off for me, princess, and let me show you what other secret skills I have besides cooking.” 

Adora makes a tortured, aroused sound low in her throat.

She scrambles to undress herself as quickly as possible, willingly and obediently allows Catra to switch their positions.

And then, well - 

Catra takes her time, savoring every gasp, every whimper, every whisper of encouragement or praise or desperate entreaty. 

It’s been a weird day, but ultimately a good one, and she wants the final moments of the trip to last as long as possible. It’s been a week packed full of memorable occasions, but this one, well -

She already knows that she’s going to treasure the memory of her name on Adora’s lips and Adora’s hands tight in her hair for years to come. 


	7. Saturday

Catra wakes up before her alarm goes off, pulled out of dreaming by feeling someone shifting against her. Her eyes crack open as Adora starts to sit up and pull away, moving slowly and cautiously in the pre-dawn dark.

“Where’re you goin’?” Catra mumbles, reaching for her.

“Oh, hey,” Adora says, turning and smiling apologetically. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. I was gonna go make some of that instant coffee we found.”

“Sun’s not even up yet,” Catra counters. She wiggles a little in the sheets, lazily stretching. She enjoys the way Adora’s eyes dance over her body as this motion pushes aside the covers. “Come cuddle a little first?” It feels somehow greedy - feels a little _vulnerable_ \- to ask for it so bluntly, but… over the last couple of days with Adora, she’s really started to feel like maybe it’s _safe_ to let herself be a little vulnerable. 

Adora’s smile turns bright and shy and sweet and sheepish all at once, like she’s somehow surprised Catra wants her around even after the night they just shared. 

“Five minutes,” Adora concedes, slipping back into the bed. She’s so warm, so beautiful, so naked, and she wraps her arms around Catra readily when she curls up against her chest. 

Catra runs an appreciative hand over Adora’s hip bone, places a single, grateful kiss to her chin, and then closes her eyes to just enjoy this last fleeting taste of paradise. 

* * *

They watch the sun rise together, standing on that rickety balcony and drinking terrible instant coffee. They’re silent, largely, and there’s a thoughtful sort of tentativeness to the silence. This sunrise marks the end of what has been a strange but wonderful week, and, hopefully, the beginning of something new. 

It feels so surreal, like everything that’s happened in the last seven days has just been some whirling, wistful dream. She wonders if they’ll still have this same intense connection and compatibility once they’re out of the dreaming daze of vacation and back to reality. 

There’s no guarantee - nothing in life is guaranteed, Catra knows all too well - but as Adora leans closer, pressing their shoulders together, she decides that she’s going to allow herself to _hope._

* * *

“Wildcat!!” Scorpia hollers across the too-bright airport mezzanine, “Oh, thank god, you made it alright! I was so worried! How was the room you rented? Are you okay? Did you find somewhere to eat? I am _so_ angry at those resort people, I cannot _imagine_ what their deal is - “ 

It’s at this point in the tirade that Scorpia finishes sprinting across the distance between them and snatches Catra up in a gigantic hug, swinging her around. Catra squeaks in surprise, and then laughingly pries herself out of Scorpia’s grip. 

“I’ve been out of your sight for literally less than twenty-four hours,” Catra protests. “Everything was fine.”

“Everything?” Scorpia says, and then, with a _meaningful_ look at Adora, _“Everything_ , everything?”

“Yes, everything,” Catra says, shoving Scorpia away, feeling her face get hot. “Fine. Better than fine.” 

The rest of the group catches up and wraps Adora in hugs. 

“Really, it’s not a big deal - “ Adora is saying, as Glimmer froths with rage about whoever reported them to the management. “They aren’t the bad guys for enforcing their clearly stated policies. I should have just followed the rules!” 

Feeling sly, exhibitionist, maybe a little possessive, Catra slips through the crowd and bumps Adora’s shoulder with her own. 

“I’m glad you didn’t,” she says, and Adora turns to look at her with a blushing grin. Her knuckles brush against the back of Catra’s hand, asking a quiet question - _may I? -_ and Catra answers _yes,_ twining their fingers together. 

They’ve been holding hands all week in front of their friends and this - the first time they’re doing it as themselves, _for_ themselves - feels intimate in a way that Catra never would have expected it to feel. 

“I’m glad I didn’t,” Adora echoes softly, still holding her eyes.

Catra’s pretty sure she’s going to see the endless summer sky and the bright, crystalline expanse of the ocean reflected in Adora’s earnest gaze long after they leave this place behind. 

The first to figure out just what’s being confessed through their joined hands is Bow, if the absurd high-pitched noise he makes is any indication. 

“Oh my _god,”_ Mermista says, catching on quickly, “Did you two _seriously_ get kicked out for not being a couple and then become an actual couple _literally_ the next day?”

“That’s - that’s so _romantic,”_ Sea Hawk says, tearing up a little. 

Okay, the attention is maybe a little more than what Catra wants, now that her face is starting to get hot. 

“C’mon, you goobers,” Catra says, fighting down an embarrassed smile, “We should get to our gate.” 

* * *

Adora offers Catra her hand again once they’re sitting down at the gate; Catra takes it, and doesn’t miss the way the others watch the gesture. 

“So, okay,” Glimmer says, plopping down in the seat next to Adora and leaning forward so that she can look at both of them, “Legit none of my business, _obviously_ I do not want the details, but - seriously, how soon was your pretend dating not actually pretend at all?”

“Are you for real? They _obviously_ hooked up on the first night,” Mermista jumps in. Adora turns bright red. 

“The _first_ night? No way,” Adora protests. “I thought she hated me or something the first night. And _she_ thought - “ 

“Oh god, no, do you _have_ to tell them?” Catra mutters, putting her face in her one free hand in utter shame. It’s already bad enough that Scorpia knows.

Adora flashes her a shit-eating grin and, okay, maybe Catra _does_ deserve to be publicly ridiculed, because Adora has to be just about the _gayest_ person on this planet.

“Catra thought I was _straight,”_ Adora announces proudly to the group, and there is a pause where they all absorb that, and then - 

The hysterical laughter that erupts from them all at once is so loud that several employees and other travelers look over in surprise at the sudden cacophony. Bow clutches his sides and laughs so hard that tears stream down his face, Glimmer writhes and shrieks between great gulping gasps of air that she’s going to piss herself, and Mermista is making goose-choking-on-a-clarinet noises like she legitimately cannot breathe through her manic cackling. 

_“Wow,”_ Perfuma wheezes, “I didn’t know a gaydar could _be_ that bad!”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Catra grumbles, allowing Adora to smooth her ruffled pride with the soft way her thumb is exploring Catra’s palm. She’s got nothing to say in her own defense, really. 

“Okay, but, wait, Sunday night when we got to the resort and you both got _absolutely_ trashed,” Mermista backtracks, once she’s able to keep air in her lungs for more than two seconds without expelling it in laughter, “You thought she hated you, and _you_ thought she was straight, and you managed to continue believing that after like, _five_ nonstop hours of ‘pretend making out’ as ‘pretend girlfriends’?”

“I’m sorry, we _what?”_ Adora blurts.

“Pretty sure that didn’t happen,” Catra says, frowning, suddenly aware of how little of that first night she remembers after the fifth shot of tequila. 

“No, it definitely did,” Bow says helpfully. “Seriously, neither of you remember it?”

“Please tell me I didn’t make an ass of myself,” Adora moans. 

“You spent like fifteen straight minutes drunkenly telling poor Will how great your girlfriend’s ass is,” Glimmer says, bubbling over with fresh laughter. “You kept saying the phrase ‘my girlfriend Catra’ and then giggling to yourself.”

“My ass, huh?” Catra purrs, tilting her head to smirkingly whisper these words against Adora’s jaw. It makes Adora turn _magnificently_ crimson. 

“You were _just_ as bad, Wildcat,” Scorpia chortles. 

Oh no.

“Oh, _please_ share,” Adora says, jumping on the opportunity to drag Catra down with her. 

“Okay, well, _first_ of all, there was that whole hour where Catra kept grumbling to me about straight girls, which was _very_ confusing at the time but makes a lot more sense in context,” Scorpia says, “And then after the shots started to hit she just kept going on and on about how awful Adora’s shirt was and how she was going to ruin it forever by ripping off all the buttons with her teeth, and that would serve her right for being so attractive.”

“You really hate those shirts, huh?” Adora teases. 

“I’m excited to find out whether or not you dress like an actual human when you’re not on vacation,” Catra teases right back, grinning at her, losing herself briefly again in those eyes. 

“See, this shit,” Mermista says, gesturing at the two of them, “ - is why I was _sure_ you two had been sleeping together on the DL since that first night.” 

And, y’know, now that Catra is _thinking_ about it - which she’d been avoiding doing all week, since she kind of didn’t want to know how she might have embarrassed herself getting so damn drunk on the first night - she realizes she does remember vague traces of Adora’s hands in her hair, a palm tree solid against her back and lips hot on hers. 

“Holy shit,” she mutters, “We _did_ make out that first night while we were blasted, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, you _definitely_ did,” Glimmer says, pulling out her phone and flipping through it and then turning it around to show them a dark, grainy photo in which a tall blonde in an unmistakable red aloha shirt has someone who is definitely Catra backed up against the palm tree beside the pool.

“I do _not_ remember that,” Adora says, aghast. 

“You were both _really_ drunk by that point,” Bow laughs.

“Hang on, hang on, I have a video,” Glimmer says excitedly.

“You took a _video_ of us _kissing?”_ Catra asks, a little uncomfortably. 

“No, no, obviously not. Here - I was gonna show this to Adora the next morning but she was _so_ hungover I decided she didn’t need me to rub it in.”

“I don’t think I want to see this video,” Adora squeaks. 

“Oh, I think I _definitely_ want to see this video,” Catra says. 

Glimmer pulls it up and hits play; Adora’s face appears, flushed and grinning. 

“Okay Adora sweetie, tell me again about your great plan.”

“Glim - Glimmer! It’s a _good_ plan! I’m - she’s so _pretty_ Glimmer!”

“Uh huh, so you keep saying.” 

“Okay, okay, okay okay okay - so my plan. I’m gonna go up to her. And I’m gonna say. Here’s what I’ll say. We’re - “ Adora leans in close, and the camera gets a great angle right up one of her nostrils. She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “We’re fake dating, right, so we gotta - we gotta pretend to be girlfriends. We gotta trick ev’rrybody. So - so if we’re girlfriends, then, you know, maybe - maybe it’s a good idea to kiss??” 

“And that’s your big clever plan.”

“It’s gonna - it’s gonna go _great,_ because I have a _plan!_ I need a plan, Glimmer, I’m just - I’m so gay, I’m too gay, I need a plan!”

Glimmer in the video laughs uproariously, obviously also quite drunk, and then turns the camera to herself.

“This is gonna be a mess,” she whispers, giddy. 

The video ends, and Catra _smirks_ at Adora. 

“You are _so_ cute,” she murmurs.

“I’m gonna get Scorpia and Perfuma to rat on you for whatever dorky things _you_ did that night, you know,” Adora says, doing a solid impression of the side of a fire truck. 

“I’m honestly surprised you don’t remember,” Perfuma says. “Catra started leaning against you and murmuring this drunken blur of dirty talk that was _so_ explicit that I only caught like one in every three words and I had to go for a walk to cool myself down.”

“Oh yeah, I remember that!” Scorpia says, laughing. “That was right before they started kissing.” 

“Why did literally none of you mention this all week?” Catra says, hiding her face against Adora’s shoulder to disguise her own rising blush. 

“You were both so drunk that night, and then the next morning you acted like it hadn’t happened, so we all collectively came to the conclusion that you’d both decided it was a bad idea in the light of day.” Perfuma says. “We were trying not to make things weirder for you two!” 

“Anyways, I was a little distracted,” Glimmer says, a smirk sliding across her face. “You guys remember this was our _honeymoon,_ right?” She sends a sly look in Bow’s direction. “I had other things on my mind. My own… priorities. For once I decided not to meddle and let it sort itself out, which clearly it did.” 

“Gross,” Catra laughs, throwing Glimmer’s phone back at her. “But like, fair, I guess.”

* * *

Catra catches Adora looking at her out of the corner of her eye.

“What?” she asks, turning away from the little window and the endless view of fluffy clouds and blue sky.

“Just thinking about how different this is from the first flight, right after we met,” Adora says, wearing a soft smile. This time it’s Catra who offers her hand, Adora who takes it without a moment’s hesitation. “It’s sort of funny that I was all stressed about going on vacation, and I feel… excited, kind of, to go home?” 

“I know what you mean,” Catra says quietly. “It’s like…” She pauses for a moment, considering. “It’s bittersweet, I guess. It sucks that it’s over already because I honestly had a really nice time and I kind of wish it would never end, but also… I’m ready to get home, and see my cat, and be in my own shower, and sleep in my own bed.” Ready to start this relationship in the real world, to carry it over from the wacky situation it grew out of and see if it can flourish there too. 

“You have a cat!” Adora says excitedly. 

“His name’s Melog,” Catra says, smiling at the thought of him. 

“I can’t wait to meet him.”

“I feel like I should tease you for being presumptuous,” Catra chuckles, “But yeah. I think you’ll like him. He’s a sweetheart.” 

The thought of Adora in her apartment, sitting on her sofa with Melog in her lap, steals into Catra’s heart as gently and naturally as breathing. It’s easy - _so_ easy - to imagine more. 

She imagines what it might be like to learn to ride horses, to cook for Adora and win her over to the love of seafood, to take Adora to jazz performances and allow herself to be introduced to the things Adora loves and cares about and enjoys. 

And, too, she imagines how her life might change with not just Adora but Adora’s _friends_ added to it - because it isn’t just this earnest, dorky horse girl she’s kind of started to fall for over the last week. Bow and Glimmer genuinely seem nice, and genuinely seem to love each other, and goodness knows Catra could use a new data point for what a happy marriage might look like. Assuming they’re like that outside of their literal honeymoon, maybe Catra can allow herself to wonder if maybe it _is_ possible to spend your life with someone in a way that’s both deeply traditional but still fundamentally queer. 

Instead of lonely Friday nights watching reruns with her cat, she imagines spending weekends with Mermista and Sea Hawk and Perfuma and Scorpia, too. She’d bet any amount of money these nerds are the kind of people who do board game nights. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Adora asks, squeezing her hand. 

“I’m glad I met you,” Catra says, and while that’s the truth, it’s not the _whole_ truth.

The whole truth is that something tells Catra if she’s willing to take the risk, loving Adora and being loved by Adora will _change_ her - and, well, that maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing. 

Adora smiles.

“I’m glad I met you too,” She says. Then her smile turns sly. “Hey, I have a proposal.”

“Oh no. Hit me.”

“Well, we’ve got time to kill, right? Why don’t we each take a turn sharing a song we like. We can each take one earbud and go back and forth picking songs.”

“This is just a trick to make me listen to more country, isn’t it?” Catra groans. 

“Not all country is bad!” Adora protests. “I’m going to convince you.”

“Fine,” Catra sighs, grinning for some reason she’d be hard-pressed to explain. “But I’m picking my most eclectic music in revenge.”

“Yes!!” Adora hisses, victorious, and excitedly starts pulling a set of earbuds out of her bag. “I swear, country is like, _extremely_ gay. Me and Dolly Parton have the same birthday, you know!!” 

Catra keeps smiling, rolls her eyes, and pops the offered end of the headphones into her ear. 

“Alright, princess,” she says, pushing the armrest between them up and out of the way, and propping her head up on Adora’s shoulder. “Convince me.” 

She closes her eyes, and allows the first notes of guitar to compose the opening argument. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


They say goodbye, reluctantly, at the passenger pick-up zone. 

Adora kisses her, right there in front of everyone, and breathes, “I miss you already,” against Catra’s lips as they come apart. 

“I’ll text you when I get home,” Catra promises. 

Her apartment feels cold and empty as she pushes open the door and steps inside. Melog trots over and headbutts her shin, and that makes it feel a little less lonely, but still -

She drops her bag at the door and pulls out her phone. 

_Home safe and sound,_ she texts, and then waits impatiently for a reply.

She doesn’t have to wait for long. 

_Me too,_ Adora writes, and then, a moment later, a goofy selfie pops up on Catra’s screen. 

_Nice flag,_ Catra replies. She wonders if the big lesbian flag behind Adora in the picture is on her bedroom wall or her living room wall. (She looks forward to finding out.)

_Thanks!_ Adora replies. _Maybe I should have posed with it to send you a selfie before we met. Might have saved us some confusion._

_It would have at least let me prepare myself for how hot you’d be,_ Catra writes, still standing in her entryway, unable to look away from her phone even to walk the ten feet to her sofa. 

Melog paws at her foot for attention, and she crouches down to rub his head without tearing her eyes from the screen. 

Adora responds, delightfully, with a blushing emoji. 

Their texts get saucier, and finally Catra has incentive in _spades_ to finally step away from the front door, because Adora sends a selfie of a different kind and she’s not about to be outdone. 

She makes Adora wait fifteen whole minutes while she digs out her only pair of lingerie and then takes a grand total of twelve photos before she’s satisfied with one and sends it.

Adora starts typing a response instantly.

Stops.

Starts typing again.

Stops again. 

_God, you’re gorgeous,_ she finally sends, to Catra’s relief, and then, after another pause:

_Do you want to come over?_

Catra smiles, and smiles, and smiles, and presses the phone to her forehead for a few seconds before collecting herself and responding.

They’ve already swapped addresses, so Catra’s got the Uber lined up and ready to go in a heartbeat. 

_I can be there in 40 minutes,_ she types, and then waits, finger hovering over the button to order the car. 

Adora’s reply is short, and sweet, and simple, and it still manages to make Catra’s heart flutter. 

**Adora (8:16 p.m.)**

_See you soon :)_


End file.
